#instead of stupid bartleby >:/

[theriverpointace]

if there's one thing dracula's NOT ABOUT, it's sex!

what dracula IS about:

found family

gender roles

using every single weapon in your arsenal to destroy creepy monsters and also racism, sexism, and assorted bigotry

[zooterchet]

Family Legal Developments (Contributions to Government)

Minos: An invention of patent, with "Herculean" son, warrants gift of lands, under border of product reclaimed.

Bartleby: A book, must be structured, so law can be developed as argument of advertising.

Longinus: Crime is the superior substance of law, the prior career to a lawyer's degree at wedding, not marriage.

Pilate: The canon is made to be argued over, an aphrodesiac to the witless public portrayed in law and courts.

Muhammad: The woman is to be equal in marriage, unless pets be involved, then the man is assumed to be a child molester for failing to refuse at death of hounds and felines and other assorted vermin.

D'Outrement: The amicus curae can be introduced to courts by anyone scholarly in literature, to remove reference revealed by art, instead of logic of remedial quality.

Khan: The bank's losing hand, is the greatest, hence the command must be incorrect to employ of separate accounts, none sought for gain outside the structure of jurisdiction.

Avicenna: The homosexual male has had anal sex with a woman with the phallus, and the lesbian has bedded him, now a prostitute fo course of need from assumed consent being allowed by whore's mother, the father of an infidel.

Troit: The devil's costume for informant, is banned, and all witnesses of forensics are now nuns pregnant, hence the Bible must be sworn to refute holy law from court; the prosecutor to prove innocent of case guilty, and the defense to prove case of guilt of false accusation through plea.

Golden: The costume of state is assumed to be foreign, that of witchcraft if trial consists of lawyers bearing on reputation, hidden in courts through acclaimed member of Church, Synagogue, or Mosque.

MacBeth: The power of the courts is prohibition of substance based on unpleasant production for animal, labor, and child, not of effect or social program imbibed post sales.

Sanchez: The sweep of police is to be associated with art and weather, s the ignorant can be marked in poverty, the falsely accused can continue as vigilante against the government of law having refused, and the film or debut of pageant can spectacle on future class of law enforcement specialty to target one's own criminal behavior, per villain, with the sanctimony of avenged as major player.

Lascerdes: The sales of whiskey, to son, cannot be made illegal, for it is Irish, not a poor bread's man, a Slav, denying police's background of own child.

Polk: The strip club, is to be forbidden, for without glasses, the woman gains cancer of the breast, from being viewed by man, yet freedom is still needed, from "pig", Mussulman degraded into white jihadi, the concept of the envious and stupid.

Booth: Resource economics, considers that the vital structure, judge the mathematics and orchestration, of the necessary structures elsewhere, in measure and calculation.

Bundy: The power of attorney, cannot be seized, without those doing so, being placed in the woods, and shot, by law officer, doing the same, his "gold watch"; meanwhile, that robbed, be given bed's pleasure of crime accused, with prison staff avenging crime throughout incarceration, to male, female, or mother's arts or artist.

Malcolm X: The Nation of Islam, is no longer to exist, slaves of Jews, in name only, unless assumed to be Zionist Occupational Government, those bigots refusing pig, the gift of God, to Africa, and those poisoned by shellfish, the sanctomount of Mengitsu.

Charlebois (Jake): The superior field play, is the sacrifice of athletics, to school.

Charlebois (Raymond): The racial slur, is intended to help the race of origin the slur intends to fit.

Charlebois (Michael): The claim of a witness as against government interests, is a witness having commandeered witness booth, as if automobile, to be made known in court, by lawyer performing cross-examination, in complaint to judge.

Charlebois (Steven): Prison, is to report rape, as 'long time', for attempting to fight in prison, and any assault, is to be placed in return in prison, if reported, indicating the prisoner has guard's privileges.

Charlebois (David): Marijuana can be tested, with hard candy, to see if sprayed aerosol has been applied, therefore the marijuana is impossible to smoke.

Winston (Ellen): Any cop in the family, cannot have fasted, or else reported to the psychiatric ward immediately, to refuse all religion as a psychotic delusion, caused by Ghandhi, who went to Hell (fags).

Ted X: Harry Potter, is pedophiliac, and has to be marked gay, for being a children's story, so children will have proper test in educational sciences, and all such feeling otherwise, will be turned over to sodomey wards, to be raped by long-haired men opposing National Socialism; the fans of children's literature and cartoons and games.

Winston (Jack): The common advantage, is not by building accumulation, hence any religious deacon acting through Judaism can be spotted, by using case history, as the sum of a man's life.

[cranberrykissel]

Alex at St Bartleby's au | no fairies au

that I'll probably never get to write so. There's a plot sketch. Feel free to do anything with it.

->Alex Rider gets send to St. Bartleby's undercover to inquire Artemis Fowl II about Artemis Sr.'s plans, who seemingly faked his own death and continues to operate

->he has no idea that Artemis is a criminal mastermind and has been the one behind every Fowls' shady bussiness for few years now

->Alex is aware of Artemis' intelligence but thinks of him as harmless loner, and tries to befriend him to gain information. You know how wrong he is.

->They spend a few weeks/months together at school before artemis even looks at Alex. They have to do one of these group school projects Artemis despises so much. He manages to piss him off so much Artemis can't stand it anymore and has to speak up about how annoying Alex is.

->They quickly discover their true intentions from there. 'This idiot is a spy? Hilarious'/'Wise guy's the real villain? Please' and 'Yeah, I'll show this guy what I'm capable of.'

->It not that they fight all the time. They compete in getting to know each other's deepest secret. The main goal is to make the other person trust them. Convinced that the other person has no idea they are being manipulated... they both confess a lot about their families, fears and problems. (Strangers to enemies, to friends(to lovers?))

->They pretend to be interested in each other to mess with their 'opponent'. Their competition to win the favor of the latter quickly turns into a passive-aggressive flirtation. No, they don't notice, as a rule.

->Things start escalating and boom! the whole school think they're dating. Instead of breaking the rumor, Artemis makes a detailed lecture about LGBTQ community and why homophobia and/or transphobia is stupid. This is probably a lightbulb moment for Alex, who he finds himself staring the whole time.

->They're sort of dating. Not sure when it started but it's not as anything has changed except official status. Physical contact isn't for them, and they have to remember that this isn't real: they both have their respective motives. They don't kiss nor hold hands, cuddle, nope. More like spending evenings in school library, appearing at Alex's every game, solving riddles together, helping in class, as a love language. Not that Alex wouldn't like a kiss, but he respects Artemis' boundaries.

->Artemis Sr? Probably dead. Or... Artemis learns about his whereabouts and is ready to risk everything in order to find him. He breaks and asks Alex for help. And Alex? No way he would refuse. He knows how it feels to lose someone so important.

->The whole 'spy and criminal' conflict of interests be damned. Friends come first.

tags if it was ao3: enemies to friends to lovers?, or are they queerplatonic, it's up to interpretation, mutual pining, slowburn, idiots to lovers, banter, personal growth, self-discovery, trust issues, bisexual alex rider, asexual demiromantic artemis fowl, past child neglect, mentions of canon-typical violence, identity issues, mild discussions of trauma, but mostly fluff, except they have to go to the therapy after they end their own arctic incident, etc

[orangerosebush]

Out in the fields

Wicklow has often been referred to as the garden of Ireland. The founder of St. Bartleby’s had assumed that the sprawling landscapes and fresh air would do the young gentlemen of Ireland’s high society some good — and he wasn’t wholly wrong. There was certainly a great deal less trouble to get into in the middle of a field than there was in the more populated towns.

However, those who are determined to find trouble will inevitably make do, and such is the case on this night, with the overcast spring sky providing ample opportunity to lurk if one so desires. And, let it be said, Jack Lovett was nothing if not a professional troublemaker, in the unfortunate way that sheltered rich teenagers are.

It is true that Wicklow is the garden of Ireland, but even so, there is a smattering of abandoned lots and crumbling alleys. Tonight, Jack had picked out one of the abandoned car parks that he’d evaluated to be the best of the lots, and he currently had parked himself on top of a stack of old wooden crates. His adventuring partner for the night, a first-year university student he’d met at a rather bad concert back in the autumn, was none too happy with their predicament.

However, they’d already argued about the risk factor of skulking about in empty lots on the way over, and both thought it best to save some energy for arguing about the activity later into the night.

There isn’t much to do in Wicklow if you’re a private school student.

***

Jack flicked his lighter on and off, admiring the way it spat out sparks.

“You’re going to break that,” his companion sighed, their mouth pulled into a disapproving, thin line.

Rolling his eyes, Jack made a show of flicking the lighter shut before shoving it in his blazer’s pocket.

Ozzy smiled, leaning their weight against the almost-slick bricks of the old building. “Thanks.”

Scoffing, Jack drummed his fingers against the box on which he was sitting, the noise making a slight echo. After a moment, he looked back at Ozzy. They raised an eyebrow, and he took that as an invitation.

“What do you want to do?”

“What do I want to do?” they snorted. “You’re the one who wanted to poke around weird holes in the wall.”

“It’s not like there would’ve been anything to do on campus,” he said, frowning defensively.

“So you should’ve come up to Dublin instead of making me take a taxi down here.”

“Yeah, true, Ozzy,” Jack admitted. “Ozzy — what’s your name from, anyway?” he asked, swinging his legs lazily from his perch.

Ozzy shrugged. “Poem.”

“What?” he furrowed his brow. “I thought the name was from that rocker bloke.”

“Why’d you even ask, then?”

“Dunno. Although I do admit it seemed like a weird choice and all, considering you don’t even listen to heavy metal. ”

“Well, there you go. That’s a bit stupid.”

“Eh, can’t win ‘em all.”

“Fair,” Ozzy exhaled, rolling their shoulders as they gazed out towards the empty car park. “The story I have isn’t that interesting, to be honest.”

Jack shot them a look. “We’re lurking in an abandoned lot so that I can smoke without one of the head boys giving me grief about cigs. Please, regale me with your poem.”

“Prick.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Fine. It’s basically about the narrator meeting a traveler from a faraway land, and they talk about there being this huge statue of the king Ozymandias out in the desert. The king had it engraved to say things such as that he was ‘the king of kings’ and that his enemies should fear even the sight of one of his monuments. All real braggadocio-type shit. But here’s the thing — the statue is the only thing that remains in that desert since his kingdom is now in ruins. It’s about arrogance and hubris. I can text it to you.”

“Huh,” Jack took a puff from what remained of his cigarette. At this point, the thing was almost only the orange filtration zone. Not that that gave him pause, though. “Cool.”

“I liked the themes,” they shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever, even the powerful die eventually, be careful with where you invest in real estate. Basic stuff.”

“Well, I’m gonna read it,” Jack declared, waving his hand. “So I don’t want any more spoilers.” Tiny trails of smoke formed as he gestured, with the mist making the lit end of the cigarette splutter and hiss intermittently.

“It is cool. Plus, my name makes whoever is talking to me sound like they’re buzzing.”

“The consonants are wicked, yeah,” Jack agreed, grinning. Ozzy grinned back.

Suddenly, Jack froze up. “Shit,” He hissed, flicking his cigarette to the ground and hurriedly grinding it into the wet dirt. Jack hopped off the empty boxes, fanning the air unsuccessfully in an attempt to disperse the smell of smoke.

“Do you have any Axe in your work bag?” he asked, cursing.

“It’s a research program. I’m not really doing any heavy physical labor,” Ozzy snorted. “I don’t bring stuff like Axe to work. That’d be weird.”

“Whatever,” Jack grimaced, and Ozzy craned their neck to see what he was looking at.

Across the gloom of the dusky car park, Ozzy could just about see the silhouette of a sleek, black Bentley. One of the older models, probably. They looked at Jack quizzically, taking a step back.

“Jack,” they began slowly. “There’s a car.”

“Yeah,” he said dismissively, still waving at the air. “Got any mints, at least?” he tried, hopeful.

“Dude, there’s a fecking car parked over there,” Ozzy stressed, eyes darting back to Jack. “No one ever comes out here. I think we should leg it. Now.”

“’S probably why he drove out here, the creep,” Jack muttered under his breath, moving to riffle through Ozzy’s bag anyway. They squawked, moving to kick his hand away from the bag, but he batted their boot away.

“Gross. Orange tic tacs?” he looked up, making a face.

Ozzy shoved their hands into their pockets. “They were out of the tea-flavored ones.”

Jack rolled his eyes as he crunched on the mints. “You should take one, too.”

“ I wasn’t smoking.”

“So? It’ll look weird if only one of us has mints. Take some!”

“What? No, it won’t. You’re mental — look, do you recognize that car?”

“Unfortunately. My classmate’s bodyguard has one just like it.”

Ozzy boggled. “Your classmate’s… bodyguard’s… car.”

Jack huffed. “Shut up. They’re practically inseparable. And my classmate is always blowing off school to do God knows what, so it adds up that he’d try to invade our car park behind the abandoned Foot Locker.”

“The Foot Locker lot isn’t really ours, though. It’s not really anybody’s. That’s a bit of the point of it being our haunt.”

“Yeah, technically — we still got here first, though,” Jack sent a glare off into the gloom. “If Butler comes over here and tells me to knock off smoking again, I’m fighting him.”

"His bodyguard's name is Butler — never mind.  Please don’t get into a fight with someone whose job is being able to fight.”

“Fight professionally, maybe. I never learned karate or that MMA type stuff. I learned to fight on the streets. We’ve the advantage here.”

“There… is nothing going on between your ears. Just empty air, blowing around your thick skull,” Ozzy decided, finally cautiously taking a step closer to look at the car.

“Piss off.”

“You piss off,” they muttered back, poking their head around the rusting dumpster.

That was apparently a mistake, as they found themselves making eye contact with the gigantic man stepping out of the driver’s seat of the Bentley. He was incredibly still, like the calm ocean — barely tamed strength that had been forced into a moment of inertia.

Slowly, they felt themself raise up a hand in a small wave.

“Why are you interacting with them?” they heard Jack splutter from behind them.

“They already saw us,” Ozzy said, voice low.

The passenger door to the car swung up and out stepped another figure. He was pale enough that he seemed to glow a bit under the busted streetlight, and he was dressed in a smart, black suit. He must be the classmate, then, Ozzy decided, gaze flickering between the two. He didn’t seem like any secondary schooler they’d ever seen — but money was wont to have a funny effect on teenagers who’d never known its absence. For Jack, it’d convinced him that the world was a lot smaller and a great deal more simple than it truly was. For this other fellow, Ozzy frowned, it had seemed to do the opposite. He had the gait and demeanor of someone who knew the world was all too willing to knock him down, and he had thus decided to steel himself against any future threats preemptively.

Jack had been exaggerating their rivalry. Ozzy was sure of that.

If his classmate had seen Jack as anything more aggravating than a nuisance, it was more than likely that one day, Jack would have simply stopped showing up at the lot to hang out. In fact, it was more than likely that Ozzy would have stopped seeing Jack altogether.

Feeling a presence at their side, Ozzy turned to face Jack, who was lingering nearby. He grimaced, slinging their bag over his shoulder.

“If they've already seen us, then sprinting off will look suspicious,” he explained, hoisting the bag higher. Ozzy shot him a withering look.

“I thought you wanted to fight his bodyguard, Jack. Are you telling me you’re afraid that what, we’ll get chased?”

“Uh, yes, actually?” Jack said slowly, as though explaining something to an infant. “Neither of them understand the concept of fun.”

Their petty squabbling petered out as the two people from the car made their way over.

“Artemis,” Jack said, pursing his lips at the dark-haired young man.

Ozzy made a note of that, furrowing their brow. Artemis. Interesting.

“Hello, Jack. I must say, it’s a bit of surprise to see you out here,” Artemis remarked, tone light. Turning to face Ozzy, he appraised them.

“I’m Ozzy,” they offered.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your acquaintance before, Ozzy,” Artemis quirked his head, extending a hand in greeting.

“You’ve definitely never met,” Jack confirmed, tone somewhat brusque. “They’re a fresher at Trinity.”

Shaking Artemis’ hand, Ozzy harrumphed. “I can introduce myself, thanks. But no, we wouldn’t have met before, I don’t think.”

“Trinity?” Artemis smiled, nodding approvingly. “I gave a lecture on Balkan politics there.”

“Really? Maybe one of my friends saw it. When was it?”

Artemis waved a hand. “I was thirteen. It was some time ago.”

“Oh,” Ozzy blinked. “Good for you.”

“Quite. I must say that you’ve piqued my interest with Trinity. If I might ask: what is your focus on?”

“Classics,” Jack interjected before Ozzy could respond, puffing up slightly with pride at the mention of his friend’s work. “They’re beyond smart. Actually, you should tell Artemis about some of your papers, Ozzy. Lethal stuff.”

“Maybe some other time,” Butler announced, his voice firm, and he looked at his employer pointedly. Artemis must have picked up on whatever he was implying, as the pale young man nodded apologetically.

“I’m afraid it is time for us to part ways with you two,” Artemis explained.

Jack crossed his arms.

Ozzy put a firm hand on his shoulder before he could say something. He scowled at the strange duo in front of them but turning to look at Ozzy, his face softened.

“Enjoy your stupid car park,” Jack muttered, allowing Ozzy to maneuver them both back towards the path that led to the main foot road. He was no doubt thinking he’d got the last word in, Ozzy sighed mentally.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you smoking when we pulled into the lot, Jack Lovett,” Ozzy heard Butler call after the two of them from out in the gloom. They winced, continuing to push Jack forward.

“He’s threatened to tell my mum a few times, “ Jack remarked miserably, no doubt disappointed at his grand exit being ruined. “He knows her from some damn book club group, apparently.”

Ozzy laughed, and he gave them a hurt look.

“I’m living like a hunted man, you know! It’s not funny, Ozzy,” he sulked, and they shook their head fondly.

“You really ought to quit, Jack,” they sighed, inhaling the cool night air. It smelled vaguely of roses, with the pungent smell of tobacco beginning to fade as they walked farther and farther from the lot. It was always worth coming down from Central Dublin to visit Jack in Wicklow, they shot him a glance. Despite how much Jack might complain that St. Bartleby’s was located in the middle of absolute nowhere, Ozzy knew that deep down, he liked being away from the city. Not that Dublin was in any way as busy as some of the cities they’d seen back in London, Ozzy conceded. But even Dublin was too much for someone like Jack. He needed growing room, even at the precipice of adulthood.

“Hm. I might,” Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Jack .”

“No, I really think I might! It’s getting to the point where my mum would realize when I come home for the holidays, and the last thing I want is to get chewed out for using ‘her money to buy cigs when I should be learning',” he pitched his voice into a breathy falsetto at the end.

Ozzy chuckled. “You’ve already gotten caught, then.”

“Mum found a few I’d stuffed in my bag when I came home for Christmas. You should’ve seen her — she was huffing and red in the face for about an hour. I really got the business for that.”

“Good. Your dumbass should have realized that bringing cigs home was a monumentally stupid idea.”

“You’re mean tonight, you know that, Ozzy?” Jack grinned widely, shaking his head and knocking his shoulder into theirs.

“Whatever,” Ozzy rolled their eyes. Slowing slightly in their stride, they glanced backward, eyes narrowing to try to make out the silhouettes of Artemis and Butler.

“It… is a bit weird, you know,” they began, voice faltering. “That those two were at the car park.”

Jack snorted. “Weird is on-brand for Artemis. Besides, he wasn’t there for the car park, probably.”

“What?”

“You’d never guess it if you’d just met him, but he’s bonkers for all that like….,” Jack made a vague gesture with his hands. “Ancient aliens type shite. At least, he used to be when we were roommates. He’s gotten more normal since he was 10, but you never know, y’know?”

Ozzy stared at him, stopping in their tracks. “So that’s… a haunted car park, then?”

“Good idea for a band name — ‘haunted car park’,” Jack extended his arm, pantomiming putting it up across a poster. “But no, more like haunted hillfort.”

“There are fairy mounds in the parking lot?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re painfully British. Yeah, there are a bunch all over Wicklow. There’s one in the field behind the car park, but it’s so small you’d never see it on a touristy type guide.”

“Huh,” Ozzy said thoughtfully, looking out at the dimly lit concrete island.

“Huh?”

“Just ‘huh’,” Ozzy confirmed, turning back to continue walking.

Jack shrugged. “Fine by me.”

[bleachbleachbleach]

HELLO.

I just wanted to say that I love, love, love your tags on that character/tool post a lot! Some of my favorite shows/books involve characters that can't keep it together and just barely make it to the end of the story or make it there in an "inconvenient way" and tbh I find that usually the narratives that follow these characters don't really work away from them either--the narrative is just usually more questioning instead of fully formed.

Like, 'what if/how would', y'know? There's less of a clear meaning and more just 'what if they hadn't done that. what if they had done that. what if all that meant nothing. what if that struggle was all there was'.

But oh boy, when they DO work away from the narrative. *chefs kiss*

I mean, most of my favorite Bleach characters are narrative nightmares who either hinder or cut off lines of theme in the story entirely. And, in general, I think there are A LOT of characters in shonen--a genre known for very long narratives that can't possibly complete every thought but also can't just abandon all those characters introduced ESPECIALLY the fan favorites or personal favorites--work in the way you described.

Tbh i think your tags really highlight why so many ppl get drawn to these characters/why they're so fun to play with in fanfiction.

If you have more to add or more thoughts about this you want to lay down I am here, eagerly awaiting and ready to pick them up.

Also, who do you think in Bleach is the most fun characters who sort of drop kicked the story, in your opinion? Who's the one you like the most? And who's the one you dislike the most?

[For posterity the referenced post is this one.]

Aww, thank you! That’s really lovely to hear. I was anxious about even putting it in tags because I don’t think I presently have the capacity to explain it well—and even if I did might still sound bananas to many. Or at least the bit about negotiating with characters and how *they* feel about being subjects in stories. Because as much as that really is my practice saying it out loud takes me back to like… FFN in 2003 where every store was prefaced by extensive chat-form back-and-forths between the fic author and their character "musies" and that is not something I think fandom would benefit from bringing back in force, hahaha. But anyway.

Here’s the part where I disappoint because I don’t think I actually know Bleach well enough to speak to it in this context. WHICH SOUNDS DUMB EVEN AS I TYPE IT BECAUSE LOL WTF IS THE NAME OF THIS BLOG WE ARE CHARLATANS AND POSERS FOR CLAIMING AS OUR NAMESAKE NOT ONE BLEACH BUT THREE BLEACHES but truly, my experience of Bleach has a shallow depth of field. I feel like I have weirdly intimate knowledge of some severe rabbit holes but a non-existent to uneasy sense of the gestalt.

Like idek man, in my "slow re-read where I am actually paying attention" Ichigo hasn’t even met Byakuya and Renji yet. ToT

I'm gonna put this behind a cut because it spidered all over the place, but in summary:

characters and their capacity to produce narrative failure

the charm of longform serialized series and their invitations to imagine stuff

me attempting to talk about Hitsugaya and feeling a fool, as usual

I guess in general terms, I’m really interested in characters and their capacity to produce narrative failure. Not failure as in 'bad' but failure as in things that break form or are circuitous or are actively detrimental to a narrative arc. All my strongest examples of what I’m thinking of are from a different fandom and therefore not relevant to this blog, alas. By comparison I think anyone in Bleach can keep it together better than the characters that are immediately coming to mind, lol. But I think this idea dovetails often with trauma narratives, or depression narratives, because these things are often… non-narrative? Like, there’s no fourth or fifth for minor fall or major lift. Sometimes it’s the same thing over and over again, or maybe nothing. Maybe it’s the exact same self-sabotage narrative dictates could have been avoided. Maybe it’s some act that emanates forth but cannot be explained because it cannot be explained and will never be explained. That’s a version of what I’m talking about, in any case, though not the only version.

Your note about longform shounen definitely resonates with me, too. In my mind I don’t like long things and I prefer series that are more self-contained but whenever I have ever landed in a long-term fandom, with a piece of media I felt obliged to carve out chunks of my life for, and to interact with at that level of creative fannishness, it’s always been something stupid long and serialized by the seat of its pants. I know plot holes or dropped threads bother a lot of people (makes total sense, don’t get me wrong) but I find these things incredibly attractive. I see them as invitations to join in the fun. Especially when it’s so much a part of the form and genre to have this, as you said, lack of real expectation that every thread will be followed to its conclusion (or that it would be worthwhile to do so) and every thought completed.

There’s this piece by David Grann that was published in The New Yorker in 2004 that I really love that speaks to part of this idea, albeit in terms of fictional universes versus fictional characters. But Grann is talking about Sherlock Holmes (Doyle original) and the ways that Sherlockians would like, approach apparent lapses in narrative and then solve them according to the established rules of the universe. I just love that. There’s also the line, "Never had so much been written by so many for so few," which LOL if that ain’t fandom I don’t know what is!!

I feel like I’m actually talking about three distinct but related facets of these thoughts in this post, except all at once and without clear transition, uhhhhh.

Gah, I am broken and now can ONLY think of examples from my not-Bleach fandom, but to try a different tack and add yet another facet to this already funhouse-mirror post, my various attempts to write Hitsugaya often feel like they come up against a version of this. I think Hitsugaya has aggressive side character energy, and I find it difficult to make him the center of a story and have it feel right to me. He feels different to me than writing other minor characters, where they can be the center of their own stories even if their story is not the main story. Like, two of my fave characters in my other fandom have literally like… three lines in 350+ episodes and it feels easier to imagine THEM at the center of their story and I think what it comes down to is that Hitsugaya probably prefers what he not be written. And when he does become more narrative I think he’d prefer that none of it was happening in the fist place. But at the same time he always seems to be…around??? whether there is really a good reason for him to be present or not. XD So while, say, he and Bartleby "would prefer not to" (because THAT'S what this post needs, a Melville reference), Bartleby actually opts out and Hitsugaya out here volunteering.

He also often feels non-narrative to me because he feels very declarative, if that makes sense? Like, the coming-to-decisions or coming-to-realizations parts of existence happen pretty quick, or are approached perfunctorily. I feel like I find narrative in the "coming" part of that equation and instead Hitsugaya will be like, well, I’ve already done that part without you, and/or plan to do that part in the future and it will still be without you, the audience. Anyway, here’s the determination I’ve made, here’s what I’m going to do, and here begins the long and probably tedious process of my doing that thing (off 2 go train in a cave for a bit). I don’t think he actually believes the world is that simple, Tab A into Slot B, but I do think he’s already made that assessment and can see coming to terms with that as a horizon, if that makes sense. So even if he doesn’t know the answer to something, or is completely at a loss of what to do (what to say to Hinamori? how to productively address the number Aizen’s done on him) there’s still not necessarily a story there. Maybe the answer is you grind, and it is repetitive and boring. Maybe you just hold things. There’s not even the act of learning how to hold things, necessarily, just the practice of doing so.

Wow, that probably doesn’t sound good! I feel like I need to suffix this with the assurance that Hitsugaya is my absolute runaway character in the whole series and this was true 15 years ago and it is still true now (truer, even) and everything I just said are reasons why I love him.

[save-the-spiral]

at what point are you willing to listen to my silence

HI! guess who wrote a 4K word long nolan & duncan fanfiction. Gay Banter and Emotional Confrontation, that’s all I can say.

(Read it on Ao3)

Nolan chewed at the cord of his amulet, frowning around the harsh black line pressing into his chin, the gem at the end heavy with magic. He was focused on his work, brain sluggish, at the tail end of an all-nighter spent doing his homework. While he was one of the few who genuinely enjoyed Professor Drake’s class, he had to admit that the essay lengths were ridiculous, and the obscure topics made it awful.

Nolan yawned, cord falling out of his mouth, the pendant clattering onto the table, snapping him out of his daze. He hadn’t even realized he was chewing at the cord, and he frowned down at it, before stuffing the amulet under his robe, above his t-shirt, and picked up his quill, ready to edit his work.

Instead of dipping the nib into his inkwell, he ended up toying with the quill, moving his fingers so it would wave back and forth, the plain brown owl’s feather blurring at the speed. It fell from his hand when he yawned again, stretching and rubbing at his sore wrist and hand.

In this dark corner of the library, there was no clock, just the faint ticking from the large grandfather clock by Mr. Argleston’s desk. This late at night, there was nothing else. No shuffling papers, muffled conversation, or even soft breathing. Nolan settled in at around dinner time, and he had heard only a few people come in, and they all left eventually.

Really, it was his fault after all. He had put off the essay for the week he was supposed to be working on it. But it was so infuriatingly broad, so seemingly insurmountable, that he couldn’t even find a place to start. Even with a faint idea, it wasn’t even remotely interesting. So he left it until tonight.

Nolan leaned on his arms, bright yellow sleeves muted in the dim candle light. He let his hood fall over his eyes, dark blue trim working well to allow him peace. This was supposed to be easy. He had done this same thing so many times, and had excelled so much. He just had to grab the quill, and write. There was no excuse that could translate from him just sitting here and trying for hours, ending up with nothing.

He closed his eyes, trying to organize this in his mind. Main ideas, topic sentences, theme. Just copy over the introduction and reword it for the conclusion, add in some information from the body of the essay. It’s supposed to be easy.

In the end he was in that warm nest of his arms, breathing towards his left arm so he could get fresh air between the slant of his arm and the table. It was so dark, and he was so tired. The drifting between sleep and wakefulness was simple.

Waking up to a light prod on his shoulder, however, was not as easy. With a groan, Nolan raised his head, hand already shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in-

With a swear, Nolan sat up straight, looking around, only to see Duncan Grimwater, Ravenwood’s resident talented necromancer, sitting across from him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Bit early for an afternoon nap, huh?” Duncan finally said.

“Early?” Nolan managed to get out, yawning and then returning to rubbing his eyes, not even fazed by his hood falling and revealing his dirty blonde hair in a bird’s nest, his undercut growing out from lack of care. 

Duncan was staring at him, face unreadable. “It’s like, one o’clock dude.” He said dryly, watching as Nolan’s eyes lit up with fear.

Nolan tensed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to resist the urge to rip up his now useless essay. Professor Drake did not accept late work, even from his best student. Maybe especially from his best student. 

His harsh breathing filled the little alcove of bookshelves. 

“I, uh, heard that you were asleep in here.” Duncan said awkwardly. 

“So?” Nolan finally snapped out, an edge to his tone. “What do you want?” 

“Maybe I wanted to grace myself with your presence.” Duncan’s awkward pressed lips quickly twitched into a sneer. “Maybe someone decided to worry about you for probably the first time in your life.”

“Who?” Nolan asked, making a show of looking around for someone not there. If he wanted to encroach on Nolan’s sleep far past any time that would make him punctual to class, he’d have to admit to the real reason why.

“Some asshole who thought he’d try to be nice, I guess.” With that, Duncan leaned back in his chair, making a show of going on the back two legs.

“Key word ‘try’.”

“As if you’re an expert on kindness.”

“Don’t believe it exists without strings attached.” Nolan shrugged, shoulders aching in protest to sleeping slumped over on a table. 

“You don’t bring much to the table aside from being good at tests, Stormgate.” Duncan plucked one of Nolan’s quills out of its inkpot and began twirling it, regardless of the spots of ink staining the table and his fingers, his hood falling back a bit to reveal small, thin dreadlocks and an undercut.

“You don’t bring anything aside from knowing how to make Susie Gryphonbane pissed off and an obvious crush on your dead ex-professor.” Nolan snapped.

Duncan dropped the quill back on the table and let the front two legs of his chair slam on the floor. “Well then. As your fellow useless asshole wizard, I was worried about you.”

Nolan swallowed, staring at the small black onyx earrings Duncan wore so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact or acknowledge the implied question of if he was okay. “Seems like a stupid thing to do.” 

“Well, it’s obvious you don’t try it. Worrying about yourself doesn’t lead to the hot mess you are now.” Duncan smirked, still mean, but at least not going for the jugular like they had before.

“At least I’m hot for once.” 

The startled snort of laughter from Duncan made Nolan smile.

“What’s the deal, anyway?” Duncan said as his laughter died. “You’re brilliant. Spending hours perfecting an already perfect essay seems overkill, even for you. Some new kid impress Cyrus more than you?”

Nolan huffed, shoving the now crumpled and slightly drool stained essay he had slept on across the table. The few wobbly sentences were pathetic, especially in the light of day. 

“So I see I had a reason to worry at least,” Duncan read the half finished introduction before sliding the paper back. “So how long until Cyrus puts a hit on you for being a-” He cleared his throat, before starting an awful impression of the awful professor. “‘Disgrace to all beings who have ever even thought of myth magic’?” 

Nolan laughed, crumpling up the parchment and tossing it to the floor. “Don’t know when he’ll order that hit, but I hope he does it soon. The waiting’s the worst part.” 

Duncan nodded sagely. “Ah. Not your first assasination attempt via the good professor?”

“I’ve got my fake I.D.s and the summer home in Zafaria all set up for times like these.” Nolan’s seriousness was offset by his smirk, by the new light in his pale eyes.

They both shared a laugh, and Nolan began packing up his books into his bag, unwashed hair falling into his eyes as he organized the books by color, making sure to store his quills properly and cap all his inkpots.

He ran a hand through his hair, realizing that he’d have to actually take a shower again even if it was sensory hell, and glanced over to see that Duncan was still sitting there, face more expressive and open than Nolan had ever seen. This wasn’t the stormy streets of Triton Avenue, or the stuffy classrooms, where Duncan constantly picked at obvious weaknesses and strived to prove himself better. In a quiet, sunlit library alcove he was a different person.

“Still hanging around?” Nolan finally said.

“Never got any information to assuage my obviously altruistic worries.” Duncan said, staring hard in a way that made Nolan uncomfortable. 

Nolan was always uncomfortable when looking people in the eyes, though, so that was nothing new. The silence stretched on, and Nolan shifted his weight, debating how much running out of the library would be worth the trouble and inevitable temporary ban. 

“Are you okay, Stormgate?” Duncan’s voice went soft, and for a moment he might as well have been speaking some ancient language for all Nolan could comprehend it. 

Nolan felt his chest tighten, and wondered if he was going to cry. He hadn’t in months. Finally, he just shrugged, voice distant and fragile when he spoke. 

“I don’t think you want my answer to that question.” 

Duncan’s face immediately shut off, twisting into an annoyed scowl as he scooted back in his chair, the screech of the wood against wood harsh and awful to Nolan’s ears. 

“Fine.” 

Then Nolan was alone, hand gripping the strap of his bag too hard from where it pulled at his aching shoulder. He couldn’t tell where he misstepped there, and assumed it was starting the conversation in the first place. He yawned again, and stood up straight, stretching, before pulling his hood up.

Younger students walked out of his way when they crossed his path as he walked across the Commons. The dark shadows of the tunnel into Ravenwood were like a second blanket, a comfort in pavlovian, knowledge that he’d be in his safe, solitary dorm soon enough.

Then he walked out into the nice, sunlit courtyard in front of Bartleby, only to see Cyrus Drake striding out of the Myth School. The man obviously noticed him, and began walking faster.

Now was the time to run, he thought.

Turning around and racing back to the Commons was easy, deciding on a direction after that wasn’t so simple. He stumbled on the cobblestone path, then decided to go back to the library. His exhausted brain decided to treat this situation like it was life or death, so of course he made a dumb decision. 

His professor would know to look for him in the library, as easily as he’d know to look in Cyclops Lane, where his family home is. 

So, maybe that realization was what made him veer off of the path behind the waterfall of Rainbow Bridge, where everyone now knew Nightside was hidden.

Nolan knew too, of course. In theory. He knew a lot of things in theory, but found his own execution lacking. It’s the main reason why he prefered homework over quests, even if the extra credit is enough to never touch a quill again.

He had never seen the dark, dank cave with his own eyes. Or the very intimidating skull embedded into the half open door. It was his lifeline, though, so he walked quickly forward, shaking his hands to get the faint mist of water off of them. He shook his hands out more after that, letting himself stim to help with the nerves that onset him in this new environment.

Nightside was… not as scary as he thought it would be from the stories people tell. It was like a more tame version of the dark caves hiding in the other streets. There were little necromancers milling about, getting out of class. Malorn was herding them like they were a clowder of emo cats, and Marla and Penny were standing on the sidewalk, watching like one watched vaguely wild animals in a zoo. 

Then a hand was on his bicep, and Nolan was being pulled onto half wilted grass, close to the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Duncan glared at him, a real one. He wasn’t the sarcastic asshole admitting he was worried. He was back to just being an asshole.

“Drake may have forgone the hit and was approaching me with intent to kill.” Nolan said, voice monotone, not looking Duncan in the eyes, watching the crowd of necromancers as they finally lined up properly, Malorn smiling wide as he directed them all into Nightside’s own small town. Duncan pulled harder, fingers digging meanly into Nolan’s soft flesh, huffing out what a generous person might call a laugh. 

“Idiot.” Duncan muttered, loud enough so Nolan could hear it. He probably did it on purpose, there’s no point in pretending either of them are nice people. Wasn’t that the point of their library chat?

Nolan just stumbled along until they finally went into the old death school’s tower. Cobwebs populated the bookshelves more than books did, the rugs were stained and maybe moth bitten, and it smelled vaguely sweet, like someone tried to cover up a smell.

At his scrunched up nose, Duncan laughed, letting go of Nolan’s arm as they both kicked off their boots by the door. “That smell is Penny. She’s got a new pyromancer friend and is now making a lot of candles, the flowery-er the better.” 

“Not the worst hobby.” Nolan finally said, unsure how to not insult the girl, even if she wasn’t there. 

“Keeps her out of trouble.” Duncan drawled, then walked to a kitchenette. He pulled out a spotless kettle, probably the cleanest thing this building had seen in years, and began heating it up. He shrugged off his outer robe, leaving a plain grey tunic and black school slacks.

“I don’t think she could get in trouble if she tried.” Nolan was still standing by the door. 

“Don’t underestimate the lengths Marla will go to when something gets in her head.” 

“Trying so hard must be exhausting.”

“You would know, Mister I-Spent-Sixteen-Hours-In-A-Library.” 

“Says the idiot who came to see if I was okay.” 

“You still never answered my question.” Duncan turned around from his puttering around in the kitchen, and gave Nolan a Look.

“Well it’s still none of your fucking business!” Nolan found himself snapping far quicker than he typically did, voice eager to jump up and crack before slipping down into a yell that sounded far too much like an echo of his late parents’ voices.

“It isn’t?” Duncan walked closer, eyes trained on him as he pulled out two chairs at the table in the middle of the room. “What about the others?” 

Nolan snorted, leaning back against the stone wall to watch Duncan, shoulder blades resting uncomfortably against the cold stone. “What others?” 

“The other people who’ve made the unfortunate decision to give a shit about you? What, are they idiots like me? Nosy?”

 “There’s no one else.” Nolan said.

“Ceren. Malorn. Penny. Artur. Fuck, even Boris for all the time he spends on the stupid newspaper, he notices you and how you look closer and closer to a ghoul every day. I’m just the only one who isn’t afraid to call you on your bullshit. You are not okay, Nolan.” 

Nolan stared, feeling himself lean more into the wall, hoping it would open up and bury him inside the stone just so he wouldn’t have to continue this conversation. Duncan was pouring hot water into mugs, and pulling out a box of teabags, dropping them in before turning back around, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you want tea or not?” 

Nolan didn’t even try opening his mouth, knowing from the sensation in his throat that he had gone nonverbal, the stress of the situation taking things out of his hands. Feeling weak and tired and ready for another six hour nap, he found himself sitting on the floor now. The stone wall continued to leech warmth away from his spine, the rug was even less comfortable than he thought.

As good a place as any to start crying.

Duncan seemed alarmed when he muttered. “Didn’t know you hated tea that much.” 

Nolan might’ve laughed if he wasn’t in the middle of a meltdown that stole his normally white-knuckled control over his body. While he was usually a puppeteer of his clumsy, uncooperative self, when it comes to this his strings, long thin nerves extending from his spine and the tips of his fingers and from every single hair on his head are all shaken, every plate of his body convergent or transform boundaries, tectonics doing nothing but continuing their work, manipulated by outside force into compliance until they shudder and subduct into volcanoes and trenches and ridges and wide, empty abyssal plains. The metaphor falls apart as he is, a slow shattering like ripping up the dotted lines on what will be a puzzle. 

The meticulous process of putting it back together is where Nolan often loses himself for days, skipping school just to sit in the home he grew up in and try to process and figure out how to be again, instead of this dissociative being where the world around him is too sped up and he feels like he exists five feet to the left of his body.

“-okay? Nolan? Nolan?!”

Heavy breathing rattled out of Nolan’s chest, and he has both hands on his head, pushing, trying to interlock his fingers into his hair so he doesn’t hit his own skull with clenched fingers, palms stiff and wrists aching. His knees push against his soft stomach, boots sliding a rug underfoot and rumpling it. 

Nolan meant to make an inquisitive sound for Duncan to hear but instead it devolved into humming and trying to fill his brain with something other than the shaky feeling of tensed muscles, as if he was a series of rubber bands and paperclips just waiting to snap and cause a mess. 

“Nolan? Oh I don’t know anything about healing, are you having a panic attack maybe? I really thought this was going to end with the tea and maybe some flirting- gosh, this is not how I thought any of this would go, I’m sorry.” 

Duncan continued to ramble, eventually sitting on the floor in front of Nolan, setting down a tray between them. 

Nolan’s breathing slowed, still ragged, his throat hoarse and face sticky from tears. His face hurt, he felt numb, empty again, a water glass overfilled by clumsy hands. Eventually he was reaching out, mind still distant from body, and awkward fingers fumbled for the handle of the blue speckled mug, wrist weak enough that he grabbed it with his other hand as well. The heat from the tea sunk deep into his chest when he brought it closer, and he closed his eyes, trying to not dwell on anything but the tea.

Duncan made a cut off sound, and when Nolan opened his eyes, Duncan’s mouth was slightly open, face twisted by confusion. “Are you… okay? There’s a couch upstairs you can crash on, Nolan.” 

Nolan just nodded, sipping the tea, now lukewarm. 

Duncan set down his own mug and leaned back on his hands, looking at Nolan like he’d never seen him before. 

“Okay then. We don’t… have to talk if you don’t wanna. But we can. Talking to you is nice, Nolan. I’d hate if-” Duncan looked to the side, flushing slightly, “If you weren’t there, y’know. You’re like the rest of us, a fixture of Ravenwood or whatever. But I’d also like to be your friend, I mean, we’d all like that.” 

Nolan watched how Duncan’s face, soft without it’s usual anger or derision, twitched into a smile. 

“We really all do care. Penny wants to know your favorite color and scent for a candle. Marla wants to study history with you to see if it’s different in the myth school. I want…” Duncan’s voice cracks with emotion, “I just want a friend, one who can keep up when I want to bitch about stuff, one who doesn’t care if I’m nice or not.”

Nolan drained the rest of his tea, gently leaving the mug on the tray, before shifting to stretch his legs out, still silent as he stood, suddenly feeling a lot less small. He still wanted to hide away from the world, wished he was back in his dorm where he controlled everything and knew every object and how to be most comfortable, but right now he would settle for the cold stone walls and the pins and needles sensation in his legs. 

He then pointed upwards and cocked his head, face blank and eyes heavy. 

Duncan got up hastily when he noticed, setting their tray onto an empty bookshelf. “The couch upstairs?”

Nolan nodded, feeling a headache pulse behind his eyes, crawling in the back of his skull. 

“I’ve got some blankets in the cupboard- feel free to head upstairs and get comfortable, it’s clean and usually just for a reading area.” Duncan crossed the room, opening a large armoire.

Nolan’s socked feet began to ache noticeably once he began ascending the stairs. He supposed at least a full day of wearing boots would do that to, and there wasn’t much else to be done. Without realizing, he trailed a hand against the stone wall, palm flat, ready to catch himself if he fell. It was instinct from climbing up the stairs to his dorm for years. 

The room at the top of the death tower was a bit dreary. Muted light from a single window gazing over the small opening street of Nightside flooded a slice of the room, leaving the door and the couch on the opposite wall in almost complete darkness. The patchy rugs and mismatched chairs were comfortable looking, and obviously lived in. Though a few of the shadowy diagrams and realistic portraits left something to be desired.

With clumsy hands, Nolan dragged his robe off, crossing the room. He tossed it on the couch, by the pillow furthest from the window. Sitting down, he sighed at how comfortable even this lumpy couch was. He was already glad he managed to get himself together enough to get off of the floor, and this was better already.

“Oh, it’s dark in here.” Duncan’s voice echoed against the stone walls. 

Nolan startled, a choked gasp leaving him. 

“Sorry! Sorry. Want me to light a candle or something? We’ve got plenty.” Duncan’s arms were full of several quilts, a slightly moth eaten comforter, and an array of strangely shaped knitted blankets.

Nolan shook his head, and stood, grabbing a few of the quilts and the comforter. A sudden sense of insecurity came from him realizing he was in simple black slacks and a white t-shirt, slightly stained with ink, but his exhaustion caught up to him.

“The knitted ones are uh- the death school’s attempt at starting a knitting circle? Please don’t tell anyone.” 

At Duncan’s almost desperate tone, Nolan managed a smirk, eyebrow raised. 

Duncan snorted. “Well. Tell whoever you want. As long as it doesn’t get traced back to me.”

Nolan shrugged, expression specifically blank just to watch Duncan’s half smile become a bit worried. It was then that Nolan began swaying on his feet trying to set up his ‘bed’, vision dimming slightly.

“Woah there. Woah-” Duncan stepped forward, tossing the knitted disasters behind him to steady Nolan. “I got you, it’s fine.” He muttered, warm breath puffing against Nolan’s cheek, more a reassurance to himself than anything else.

Nolan stood for a moment, yawning while Duncan set out the comforter as something to lie on, and guided Nolan to sit down. Nolan flopped against the pillow, murmuring.

“What was that?” Duncan said quietly, leaning in.

Nolan grumbled, half asleep, and threw a quilt over himself before turning over. “G’night, Duncan.”

Duncan’s eyes widened and he backed up. He walked quietly across the room, only allowing himself to look back when he reached the doorway.

The only visible part of Nolan was his hair, the rest a badly hidden lump of a conjurer. Soft snoring echoed slightly in the room, and Duncan found himself smiling, a hand reaching up to his mouth as he leaned against the stone wall for a moment.

“Goodnight, Nolan.” He finally said, and turned to walk downstairs, and let his new friend rest.

[badlydrawnmanic]

i think i’m just gonna watch all the episodes again instead of just the songs

episode 1 thoughts under the cut

• why is sonic yelling at manic for taking a bunch of sauce packets? let the boy have his ketchup dude • manic then does something with the sauce packets where he shuffles them like cards? is it supposed to be money?? they look like sauce packets • does everyone get more off-model as the series goes on because i remember them looking worse, either that or i only remember smear frames and wonky moments rather than when it looked passable • ... apparently the spikes on manic’s glove cuffs are also black but that feels odd • there was a shot where all three of them look into the camera and i did not like that • bartleby is dumb as a bag of rocks and also an asshole oh my god • manic looks real cute in overalls • the scaling in this show is wack, in one shot bartleby is like 724 feet tall and then the next he looks smaller than sonia • sonic is fucking PISSED • i know it’s a kid’s cartoon but like seriously bartleby is an idiot • sonic: toss it >:l   manic: oh.. [YEET] • sleet and dingo are also stupid • what are these wigs and why, where did they get these clothes • ah here comes the song here we go • the visuals... they cut so much... it looks like a weird powerpoint presentation... • song isn’t terrible, very short but that might be a benefit? they just repeat the same line a few times so i wouldn’t want it to drag, it also doesn’t sound bad so like... 6/10 i suppose, very middle of the road tbh • does sonic demand that manic play his drums again so the boy can’t hear him and sonia talking? it’s odd • sonic talks so much and says so little at the same time • [eggman voice] zoom in and enhance • i miss the roboticizer as a concept, it felt like a good conflict for the comics at least and added some element of danger to snooping around in enemy territory • does... does sonic take out a recorder and play back music so they can have a little group huddle • i can’t get over the fact that their heads are perfect circles • ... where did sonia get that dress • UGH I DON’T LIKE WHAT THEY DO WITH DINGO IT’S WEIRD • is everyone in this show blind • ... dingo eats sonic, he just... he just does it, i hate this • why are there musty caves in the castle • why didn’t manic take off the dumb disguise earlier • manic pops up right next to robotnik and two swatbots and they don’t acknowledge him at all, also i think manic says “uh oh, wipeout” but i can’t quite tell • literally none of the siblings realize that the hulking orange figure with sleet lurking behind it is dingo and not their mom when dingo didn’t even shapeshift what is this

• look at this dope • the pacing is weird, everything feels super fast • when it cuts to the ad break it zooms in on manic’s face for some reason and not all three of them looking surprised • dingo’s a dog snake worm now and i also don’t like that • manic throws junk at the swatbots because he can’t do anything else and it makes a sound like someone’s gently tapping on the bottom of a can of green beans with their finger • sonia has such tiny hands • i thought robotnik was gonna say that sonia can call him daddy and i was about to scream • what time period is this whole thing supposed to be in anyway • manic is so eager to wear a dress sndgksdb • there’s a rat on screen at one point and its tail is about as thick as its body • all the clothes in this show are so ugly • oh my god aleena shows up and you can kinda see her face under the shadow they use to obscure her and like... they didn’t even bother to animate her face, it’s looks like the stock image they use for manic 

it is THE EXACT SAME EXPRESSION • sonic just kicks robotnik down the stairs

• aleena has a weird robot horse thing and it’s kinda cute tbh • why do sonic and sonia genuinely believe manic could have pulled all that off and done the voice and like... escaped from that on his own • i’m mad this show got cancelled before they found their mom • the credits are in comic sans... wow

[gunnerpalace]

Do you think Aizen was over powered? Or is that just me?

As he is first properly introduced (by stopping Ichigo’s bankai with one finger, without complete hypnosis, in an unreleased state) Aizen is absurdly overpowered. It’s strongly implied that he is already operating at a Letzt Stil or Mugetsu kinda level.

This goes on up to the point where he could’ve effortlessly killed Ichigo had he wanted to, when he touched his heart. Except then he suddenly isn’t overpowered at all. Isshin completely hands his ass to him in normal combat until the Hougyoku activates, with even Aizen admitting he’s at his limits as a Shinigami. There is no indication that this was an illusion, nor any real reason for it to have been one.

So, Aizen is vastly stronger than Ichigo and Byakuya, but is weaker than Isshin? So Isshin is also vastly stronger than Ichigo and Byakuya? But Isshin is on about the level of Ryuuken.

Does that mean Ryuuken could’ve popped into Soul Society at any time and Letzt Stil’d out and sniped Aizen from a thousand miles away effortlessly since he was never under the influence of Kyouka Suigetsu?

Power-scaling in Bleach is weird and doesn’t make a lot of sense because you’re left with the sense that Isshin, Ryuuken, Yoruichi, and Kisuke were all vastly stronger than pretty much everyone else in the Gotei 13 except maybe Juushirou, Shunsui, Retsu, and Yamamoto, but they just… never did anything… and then Yamamoto is supposed to be a whole ‘nother level above everyone else but also just does nothing.

But later we’re supposed to believe that all these captains caught up with just a few months of training to be on about the level of Juushirou, Shunsui, and Retsu, and they still can’t win against the Sternritter, and then our mains are even higher still, with the battle against Yhwach in particular basically occurring on some higher-dimensional level.

It’s stupid. The power-creep is insane and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

But yes, to begin with, Aizen is absurdly overpowered against most people and then basically has an UNO Reverse Card against the people he isn’t overpowered against.

… Except for Ryuuken, who never saw his power and should be able to instakill him, but narratively isn’t allowed to act (even against a man who wants to kill him and destroy everything he’s built, despite being an ardent materialist) because he’s not a main character.

In fact, as I think about it:

Throughout the war with Aizen, Ryuuken has every reason to get involved because his life, livelihood, and works are directly threatened by Aizen. He does nothing.

Throughout the Xcution arc, Ryuuken has every reason to get involved because Tsukishima and Ginjou ganked his son and are bringing down a lot of bad news on his neighborhood. He does nothing.

Throughout the TYBW arc, Ryuuken has every reason to get involved because the rest of his people have become deviants, have kidnapped his son, and are led by his wife’s killer. He does nothing.

Ryuuken, narratively, really should’ve been the protagonist of Bleach. He got the John Wick call and he was just like, “Nah, fam, I’m gonna be Bartleby, the Scrivener instead.”

…I think it’d be kinda cool to have a manga where our point-of-view characters are not the real heroes of the story and they just have to kind of watch in terror as the actual hero is in the background fucking shit up.

[calliecat93]

Top 5 Things I Liked About RWBY Volume 6

(Top 5 Dislikes)

Holy Hell, I actually made it. Twelve… err,  eleven posts in one week. I somehow did it! It’d been super fun to go back over Volume 1-6. Some of them I haven’t rewatched all the way through in years. It was a super fun ride, but it’s time to wrap things up. Volume 6 is my favorite volume, and now I get to talk about hey. So let’s conclude this series of Like/Dislikes posts with my Top 5 Things I Liked About RWBY Volume 6!

#5. Maria Calavera

Back in V5, they had to cut out a plotline where, during his search for Huntsmen to recruit, Qrow met an elderly woman. This character, however, had to be cut out due to timing. But they didn’t throw her out. They just her back into this volume. That character was Maria Calavera, and she is awesome.

Maria brought so much levity into the volume honestly. She’s funny and really charming, but also sharp and intelligent. Her ass towards Yang and Qrow always got a giggle out of me. It also helped when the flashback ended, since she wasn’t feeling crushing hopelessness and was able to get everyone to at least start looking for shelter. We didn’t know anything about her, but with how she chose to stay on the train after it de-railed and her going through Barlaby’s journals, it speaks a lot to her mindset and definitely hint at her experience.

Most everyone figured this out by the time of the reveal, but Maria was a former Silver Eyed Warrior. Which while I wish that they did some more foreshadowing about her legacy before, the flashback with Maria was freakin’ awesome and showed how much of a badass that she was in her prime. She agrees to mentor Ruby, and honestly? Maria is exactly what Ruby needs. She’s experienced and an overall nice person who gan give Ruby proper guidance, but also stern enough to give her a good bonk on the head when necessary.  Which proved valuable for when we got to the end.

Maria came in at exactly the right time, and she was a big part of what made V6 so enjoyable. She was hilarious, like the “Maybe she’s dead!” line still cracks me up. SHe’s wise and can get everyone to focus on what matters. She’s been through the same hopelessness and sense of loss that they are… well okay not the exact same way, but she gets it. She wants to do something to make up for when she gave up and finds it in guiding Ruby. Someone who has the same gift and the same drive as she did in her youth. If Chapter 12 was any indication, Ruby may very well be on her way to being the next Grimm Reaper, and that’s all because of Maria. I love that old woman~

#4. Ozma and Salem Backstory

I have been watching RWBY since V1. I started just as the volume wrapped up, so I have more or less been around since the beginning. I have been following every plotline since 2013. I’ve had so many questions for so many years. One of the big ones was the connection between Oz and Salem, and why they have a conflict to begin with. I had waited since the end of V3 to get an answer. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when we finally got it, I’d say that it had been very well worth the wait.

The Lost Fable was everything that I had been hoping for. We found out about Salem. We found out about Ozma and why he keeps reincarnating the way that he doe. We found out about the Gods. We found out the history of Remnant and what exactly happened to cause the world to be what it is now. We finally found out about why the moon is broken! There were so many answers to so many questions and even stuff that I wasn’t expecting. I had guessed that Oz and Salem were former lovers, but them having actually formed a family? Making themselves God and that being the beginning of their downfall? Damn man…

The backstory was very well done. I feel so bad for these people. Al that Salme wanted was her lover back after he gave her the happiness and love that she never received before. But she was also selfish, trying to turn the Gods against each other and then driving the world to war But the GOds also made her immortal and wiped out humanity, treating them more like objects than anything else. But the biggest victim here is Ozma. He did nothing wrong except die of an illness. He accepted a deal to be with his wife again, but still had to do what was right for the world. He didn’t do that, and by the time that he realized how twisted Salem had become, it was too late. He lost his love. He lost his children. He lost his life and had to start all over again, doomed to never die until he’s united the world. Otherwise, when the Relics unite and the Gods return, everything and everyone will die.

It all makes sense. Why Ozpin acts like he does and why he keeps reincarnated. Why Salem is so Hellbent on destroying all of humanity and making Oz suffer. Sure there are some unanswered questions, like how humanity came back after their demise, but that’ not that big a deal. This was several years in the making, and I can still remember the utter shock that I felt after the first viewing. I was so happy to have this at last, and again, the wait was very much worth it.

#3. The Brunswick Arc

As much as I wished that we had more varied reactions to the Ozpin stuff, we did get a very good arc due to the hopelessness that everyone felt. These two episodes were really great. It had this horror tone, and the snow setting certianly gave it a cold feeling. There were some good bits. Yang’s PTSD still affecting her and Blake trying to comfort her but saying the wrong words. Weiss being afraid to go back to Atlas after just escaping and her terror after finding the corpses. We have RUby’s concern of Qrow drinking if he finds the storeroom of alcohol and her trying to get him to talk to her, but he’s just closed himself off completely. RUby’s trying to be optimistic, but you can just see how much everyone is weighed down.

Then we get to Chapter 6. Things aren’t going well and everyone’s on the verge of just giving up. Yang’s tired. Blake is tired. Weiss is tired. They’re all doubtful of why they’re doing any of this and why they’re going to Atlas. Ruby tries to remind them that they have to… and that’s when we get Yang asking why. We see her blank anime eyes, and we just know that something is very, very wrong. They all try to get Ruby to drop the lamp in the well, and even she begins to say how tired she is. She goes to the well, her hands trembling as she holds the lamp over the well. Her eyes are blank, but she sighs, pulls back… and a pair of red eyes make her drop ti. She refuses to leave without it, so RWBY all go down and while they find the lamp, they also find something much, much worse: The Apathy.

These embodiments of nightmare fuel are Miles’ favorite Grimm. They’re essentially zombies, using their power to weigh you down until all that you feel is apathy. You feel nothing. You don’t care about anything. You just lay there, and you either die from that or the Apathy get to you first. They are horrifying. You can’t just shoot them dead either. The girls barely get away, only being saved by Ruby’s Silver Eyes. It ends with Weiss burning everything tot he ground as they escape. We find out that Bartleby brought the Apathy tot he farm in hopes of using it to ward off enemies since they can’t keep affording a Huntsmen. Instead, the whole horde found their way there, and no one cared. They felt nothing, except for tired. 

This arc is short, but dark. There’s this bleakness all the way through. It feels like you’re the one standing out there in a blizzard with no warmth to push away the bitter cold. They did such a great job of nailing the tone. The Apathy are horrifying, but such a great concept and I can see why these are Miles’ favorite. You feel for all fo the characters and know that they are not acting right and there’s just so much relief when they snap out of it and drive away. On the upside, this gets them to apologize for their words and regain their resolve in getting the lamp to Atlas. It did a lot of good for Ruby, but we’ll get to that later. For now, this was a highlight of the volume, and I enjoyed it immensely.

#2. Bumblebee Storyline

Ho boy, this one has been controversial. And by controversial, I mean this has been hated on for stupid reasons. Like… really stupid. Bt I’m getting ahead of myself.

We all knew that when Blake came back, she and Yang would have things to work out. Which I think that they handled very well. Weiss’ talk with Yang helped her realize why Blake did what she did and let her back in. She still needed time, but she was just happy to have her back. Blake clearly still felt horrible for running away, trying to help Yang with her bag. I don’t think that Yang needed to be more angry towards Blake. Like I said, she had time to cool down and Weiss helped her with that. Blake was genuine in trying to make things right, especially when she saw that Yang was having a PTSD flashback. She talks about Adam’s tactics of making others feel powerless and tries to comfort Yang. But she ways the wrong words and Yang pushes the whole thing back as a result. Still, Yang pulled Blake out of the house after they got away from The Apathy after Blake, in particular, came close to death, so clearly Yang still cared.

But now, we get to the end of the volume, and as such the controversial bit. So int he final arc, Blake goes to take down the city’s radar, but as it turns out Adam stalked her. At this point, he’s lost everything. The White Fang. His power. His standing. At that point, all that mattered to him was making the one that he saw responsible suffer, and that was Blake. She fought back as Adam kept calling her a coward and a traitor. Unfortunately for him, Blake wasn’t alone. Yang entered the fray, and she held her own against him. Adam tried to intimidate her over what happened last time, and it’s enough to make Yang’s arm tremble. But Blake grabbed it, telling Adam that she isn’t protecting Yang. Nor is Yang protecting her. They’re protecting each other.

Adam was an abuser. While seeing his scar certainly leaves an impact, it doesn’t justify all that he had done. He only cared about control and power, and anyone who got in the way of that would earn his spite. He became a monster who emotionally abused Blake and frequently gaslighted her into making her stand at his side. That is until Blake decided that enough was enough, and she left him and the WF behind. Since then, he wanted her to suffer, as well as anyone else that she cared about. It’s why he dismembered Yang. Imo, Blake had no romantic feelings for Yang at that time, but she was still her partner. And because of it, Yang had to suffer at Adam’s hand. Which caused Blake to run, and for Yang to be traumatized and broken. In that moment, Adam made his choice, and there was no redeeming him nor did he want it.

Fortunately, the two girls recovered and got back together. But there was still one obstacle in their way before they could truly move forward, and it was Adam. They gave him the chance to eave. He refused. They fought him. It was either fight back or die. It ended with Yang managing to stop Adam’s Semblance by using her own, getting rid of his sword in the process. Adam lunged at Blake’s broken weapon ut as Blake did, and had he gotten it first then he’d keep trying to kill them. As such when Blake grabbed it and when Yang grabbed the other half, they did the only thing that they could to save themselves: shove the blades forward through Adam. It ended with him falling over the cliff, and to his watery grave.

Adam’s death caused a lot of controversies, but considering that this is a Likes post, you can probably guess where I stand. Adam wasn’t ruined by the CRWBY whatsoever and he led himself to his end and this was the right time to do it. But really? That’s not important. What’s important is what happens after, when Blake breaks down. Yang hugs her and Blake tearfully swears that she’s not going to run again. Yang answers that she knows. These two girls went through so much Hell, and it was together that they were able to set themselves free. This is what finally got me to subscribe to the bumblebee ship. Before. I was indifferent and at times angered by how many people used it to attack the writers. But this was when I saw the value of it. That sense of mutual support that they both needed. How they freed each other. How they can now move forward, and do so together as equals. This showed how great that bond is. How great that their characters are. How far that they have come, and how they can now move on. I loved this arc. It was well written, well-acted by Barbara and Arryn, and was just a super satisfying ride from beginning to end. I loved it.

But alas, there was one thing that I loved even more. Which is a big deal because this was the one thing that I was hoping for above else in this volume. What was that thing? Well...

#1. Ruby Character Arc

In my Volume 5 Dislikes post, I said that Ruby’s lack of development was the thing I hated most. It was the only real thing in the volume that I hated. When V6 was about to start, my one hope was that they would give RUby something. I didn’t care what, as long as it was something that would develop her character and have a payoff, I could live with it. And… well… they did it. They absolutely did it.

This was everything that I had been hoping for. In this volume, Ruby has to take the reigns of leadership. She’s the one who reminds them about the innocents on Argus when the truth about the Relic came out. When Oz tried to make her give the lamp back, she refused and questioned if he lied about protecting humanity. She made her own choices and was the only one aside form Maria to keep her sense and keep moving. At Brunswick, she had every reason to be frustrated and hopeless. But she kept it together and tried to do things like find food or get Qrow to talk to her. This girl was trying her best.

Then we get to Alone in the Woods. I went over this a bit int he Brunswick section, but Ruby here was fantastic. We do see that she can get frustrated and that she can’t always kepe up her optimistic facade. She almost gives in to being tired, but he fights it back, This was what she signed up for. She had a duty, and she was going to carry it out to protect everyone. She managed to fight back against the Apathy’s influence to save Blake, and then with Maria’s help was able to tap into the Silver Eyes enough to blast a huge number of them into dust. And because of it, we finally, finally have Ruby question about the Silver Eyes and ask Maria to teach her to use them.

So much good for Ruby was in here. She has to harden herself a little. It never gets to the point of brooding or angsting, but she and the others are left with no true guidance. The closest thing that she has is Maria, but she’s a new arrival in the conflict. Ruby’s used to Ozpin or Qrow having the answers, but they both have given up. But Ruby hasn’t. And when Qrow refuses ot hear Jaune’d plan out and tells everyone to just give up now, what does Ruby do? She turns to her uncle, her mentor, and tells him that she’s going to hear Jaune out. THat she doesn’t care what Qrow thinks. He may have given up, but it doesn’t mean that she has to. This was where she truly became the leader of not just her team, but the entire group. It took a second talk, but she restored Qrow’s hope. She refused to give up because they can’t. This was what she chose to do, and she was going to do it. With or without anyone to guide her.

It all ends when, after the plan went array, RUby faced Cordo. All that she has is her scythe, but this teenaged girl tells Cordo to either let them through or else. Cordo refuses, so Ruby carries out her threat by gumming up the canon arm to the point of disrepair. But that’s not the end. The Grimm attack, and they all decide to stay. RUby calls the Argus base, telling them that she is a Huntress. This isn’t the same wide-eyed girl who fangirled at Glynda and asked her for an autograph because she was a Huntress. No, this time Ruby is that Huntress. Her resolve is stronger than ever. She’s going to save Argus, and she has the one thing that can do the job: the Silver Eyes.

This was RUby’s trial by fire, and she passed it. It isn’t easy as her happy memories get tainted by the bad ones. But she’s able to use her wits and summon Jinn to buy herself time. Yes, she used the Relic despite not having a question, and she got away with it. It’s enough to let her recollect her happy memories, and ended with the first shot of her mother, Summer Rose. That image is the last thing that RUby needed to, for the first time by her own choice, use the Silver Eyes. while she’s only able to briefly freeze the Leviathan, it’s enough time to let Cordo recover and kill it for good. She lets them through due to this, and RUby not only guaranteed Argus’ safety, but them successfully making it to Atlas.

Ruby is often derided as a flat and under-developed character. I disagree. It’s not easy to move forward. It’s not easy to stay strong when so much is falling apart. Giving up is easy. Hating is easy. But RUby refused to take the easy way. She made a choice, and she has stood by that choice over and over again. She began as a naive girl with a childish dream and major anxiety. She surpassed it. She went from being afraid to make friends to befriending everyone that she meets. She went form charging at a Nevermore to prove herself, to channeling that recklessness into insane but brilliant plans. She went form questioning Oz if he was right to choose her to be leader, to effortlessly leading her team and encouraging others. Her dreams went from a childish fantasy to true dedication and understanding of what she’s fighting for. Bad things happen, and she wants to make people’s lives better as much as possible. She has a stronger understanding of the world and used it to better herself. Now here? She’s taking matters into her own hands and pushing everyone forward along with her. She’s holding on to her hope, and that is what makes her strong. 

Ruby is an amazing character. She is my favorite character. And this volume shows why that is. This corrected all of the mistakes that I felt that V5 made. She actively develops and it’s never dropped. She questions things and starts to learn from them. She learns to use her Silver Eyes. But most of all? All of this got a payoff wth her facing the Leviathan. Yes, she’s still suppressing so much and that’ll come back to haunt her. But for right now, this is what she needed. She needed to take this step, and they executed it wonderfully. As such, ti si is without a shadow of a doubt my favorite thing about RWBY Volume 6.

And with that, we are done! It’s been one Hell of a trip going back down memory lane, but I enjoyed it! Thank you, everyone, who read this as well as the previous posts. I’m not likely going to do any other LikesDislikes for RWBY until V8 starts. But I’m not done reviewing. V7 starts tomorrow, and I plan to do my episode reviews for it. I hope that you all will check those out. V7 is on the horizon my friends, and I am ready for it! I hope that you are to. But for now, thank you again, and I’ll catch you later~!

[kaneowldust]

Report 15: I Bless the Rains Down in Zafaria

My apologies for such a late report as I am currently working to earning enough gold for a much needed vacation where everything isn’t trying to kill me. But back to the matter on hand. Great Bartleby is this world a much needed breath of fresh air and exploration after the slog that was Celestia. Basing a world off the African environment makes sense to me of course and we will of course also be dealing with more Celestia magic from now on. It was found in Celestia naturally but now feels much more prevalent and actually has some bearing. Plus we now have narrative that one could actually be invested in. Hey there is only so much ‘dig Marleybone out of their stupidity’ one can put up with. Also from here on out, each world is completely new to me so reports are going to be a little different as they are more first impression then compare and contrast gameplay, memories, etc.

The narrative is a basic one. Professor Falema has sent a group of handpicked students to study abroad in Zafaria along with Umlilo the flamingo sorcerer and the Olyphant Prince Tiziri. However communication stopped and your job is to find out why. You are sent to meet Inyanga WhiteStripes, a zebra witchdoctor, who saw the students last. Along the way you uncover plots to cause unrest between the main tribes to obtain special golden weapons and unleash the power of Spin…sorry-the Deck of Shadows. If I don’t see a certain spiky haired protagonist ahead I shall be disappointed.

This is also where we learn more about the Umbra Queen little by little as we explore each area as opposed to the exposition dump that we got from Malistaire. This reminds me a lot of the way Kane and the dark powers of El Dorado (if they ever decide to expand) was handled in Pirate 101. First just mentioning the great war, then Napolequin, and finally how and why Kane even existed. But that is beside the point. Granted I have heard Morgana was a bit of a disappointment from what I’ve gleamed of forums and the like, but I don’t know for sure since I have been avoiding a lot of this stuff to try and figure it out for myself (save for those special dungeons).

Each area for the main tribes has a distinct feel and culture to it alongside with mostly all new enemy models. We will also be taking on more Sun and Moon type enemies as well. Zamunda, the Zebra territory, is much more forest like and the art of battle is valuable to them. Sometimes it looks like they look for any excuse to battle. The Savanah, Lion lands, are more arid though they seem to be more of a hunter gather race. Stone Town is the empire of Elephants and is much more cultivated than the other residential areas. Plus magic. Lots and lots of magic. And finally you have the treetop village of the Drum Jungle.

The story revolves around these tribes at war with each other for various reasons. The elephants blame the zebras for the disappearance of their prince, zebras distrust the Lions, and the Lions are trying to keep their own kingdom in order with the usurping of their king. The gorillas are still following their Umbra Queen even after the whole sealing of her power thing because they felt like outsiders even as they formed the Zamunda Council. Most of the Zafarians seems to find you an annoyance like they have this less than enthusiastic view of Wizards.

Like all worlds from Mooshu on, there are books giving more world history. This time they are animated sequences of rock art depicting the takeover of the Umbra Queen and her banishment thanks to the Council of Light which was composed of several races from places like Wizard City, Mooshu, and a future world Avalon. I do love the details for each world really showing each tribe without a bunch of text dump; something I often appreciate in entertainment.

This is also the first time in memory we actually have an overarching villain for a world. A shady zebra witchdoctor named Tse-Tse Snaketail who wears “disguises” to trick both you and others into fighting each other. Honestly I thought he was just as an odd duck until the lions are asking you why the heck you’re beating on them in their first place instead of asking them whatever you wanted to know.

Speaking of knowledge, each of the students are either incarcerated, left behind, or in hiding. One is even put in a zoo! I like that they actually know who you are and are not just some wizard out of the ether. Fun aside, during the Five BOXES event, you travel to Skull Island and they actually refer you as a witchdoctor instead of wizard. Though we have seen from Mooshu and Marleybone that Wizard101 and Pirate101 share the same universe albiet not exactly parallel timelines as the pirates arrive in Mooshu just before the wizard comes in because the Emperor is still under the sleep spell; but pirates arrive in Marleybone AFTER the wizards have done their deeds since Meowarity is in prison. Heh wondering how worlds like Aquilla and Polaris will fare (seriously KingsIsle PLEASE give us a new world to explore for Pirate already).

So from your efforts you are able to bring about some measure of peace between the Lions, Elephants, and Zebras. I cannot say for the gorillas though. For all I know, a sizeable portion of them might still be loyal to the umbra queen. Playwise this area isn’t too hard but it can get tedious. For example you need to fight, say 5 elephant sorcerers, then go to the quest giver and they make you fight five more again. Granted some of the bosses have been giving me trouble and I KNOW everyone is saying to get the Waterworks gear. However I do not have the time these days to really sit down and spend all day farming. I wish I could, but I just can’t. So I am utilizing what gear I have and get from regular gameplay.

Though it does feel like it actually serves a purpose rather than Celestia that was more ‘learn stuff’ rather than actually making a difference towards the main conflict. Some, though, do feel like one off jokes but at least they’re short and don’t take forever and a day to complete them. I do kinda wish the Housing was a bit more impressive (though I am still stuck on that accursed Two Ring Circus quest because diamonds are a pain).

Unfortunately you are unable to keep Morgana from getting her Deck of Shadows. She even teases you how she was just like you and like you; you are capable of doing better things then being Ambrose’s errand wand. So it appears that we might have a much more personal interaction then we had with Malistaire. I’m not overly complaining by any means-no. But could go rather well or fall flat. Anyway I am off to deal with Spellwrit mobs as far as I can even if getting enough to complete this quest is a real pain in my frozen backside. Until then, take to the sky my friends.

[blue-rose-89]

RWBY Volume 6 Episode 6 (Alone in the woods)

Remember when Miles Luna said that there was a creepy Grimm that he considered his favourite? I think we’ve FINALLY saw it. They are The Apathy.

What did we learn......

We meet a new Grimm known as The Apathy

The Apathy are a group of zombie-like Grimm that don’t attack its victims with brute force like the ones we’ve seen in Vale, they attack your will to live. When you have a group of Apathy around they will slowly drain your willpower until you give into despair and just give up on everything. Team RWBY almost became victims of the Apathy the same way Brunswick family did.

How did they get on the farm? The founder of the town, Bartleby Brunswick found them.

Maria finds Bartleby’s journal that reveals that when the farm hit on hard times from Grimm attacks and various financial issues Bartleby, who wanted cut costs on hiring Huntsman, went out a caught two of them so that it could use its abilities to keep the villagers calm. His intentions to keep the farm safe were good albeit stupid but that didn’t keep its ‘brothers’ from following him back home and then making a nest in the farms waterway when Bartleby unknowingly sealed them in. It didn’t take long for the village to start feeling the affects of the Apathy and the next thing you know they go to bed and never wake up.

Team RWBY (including Ruby but not as much as the other girls) were suffering the effects of The Apathy during their stay at the farm. When Ruby accidentally dropped the relic into well the girls didn’t even care. The way they responded to all of this was really creepy. They were like zombies.

Qrow’s alcoholism is taken up a notch.

We know that Qrow is ‘always drunk’ but in this episode we see the darker side of it. To be honest I think he as more effected by the boos than the Apathy going by how grouchy and drunk he acted instead of being zombie-like with WBY. Hopefully seeing the Apathy on fire as the girls escape scares him enough into realizing that despite the fallout with Ozpin he still has a responsibility to protect his nieces. He can’t keep drinking anymore.

Ruby uses her silver eyes 

With Maria’s help Ruby uses the power of her silver eyes to wipe out some of the Grimm. To use her powers, Ruby must think about the people who love her.

How does Maria know about them? That’s because.....

Maria had Silver Eyes

This is no surprise given the hints in the intro and her reason for traveling with Ruby instead of staying on the train with JNR and the other civilians. Now the question is how did she lose them. Did people like Hazel (”We deal with her kind before) ripped them out or is there a side effect when you overuse the Silver eyes?

I guess we will have to wait until the next episode to get our answer.

[lenucciagreco]

the loved ones

an anon sent me a prompt a hot minute ago to the effect of “Richard is a total know-it-all, but especially about Jared.” this is... sort of about that but mostly tries to answer some other questions i had about their relationship, Jared’s life offscreen and outside of the Pied Piper bubble, and also how “normal people” would feasibly treat the both of them.

that said, this is VERY MUCH lighthearted wish fulfillment, so, pretty average stuff from me LOL.

words: 3,096

content: Richard is bi and bad at communicating, a lot of Jared headcanons that probably contradict the writing, some OCs i was forced to make up to properly tell this story that also definitely contradict the writing.

He has elderly friends. He actually has elderly friends. This is fine.

Richard tries not to visibly claw at the armrest of the tiny wing chair in the corner, a thousand afghans and granny-square blankets draped over its back. He wouldn’t usually picture a house like this as belonging to people named Muriel and Eloise, but as he always has to remind himself, this is Northern California, and the tiny, dour church ladies he’s used to are few and far between.

“So, what was it you said you did again, dear?” this unsettlingly kind woman with the oxygen tank asks him, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of herbal tea. “I know Donald said something about—”   

“Richard and I met through work, Muriel,” Jared cuts in, his expression growing more tense. Maybe that’s just in his imagination. “Actually—well, I’ll embarrass him if I say this, but he inadvertently rescued me from the bad situation I was in before. At Hooli.” 

Muriel pauses, and then her face suddenly lights up: “Of course, of course. He’s told us all about you.”   

The other woman (her wife, who he’d first introduced to Muriel years ago, as Jared explained in the car) steps away from the cutting board she’s been zeroed in on for the last fifteen minutes, and leans against the kitchen island. She’s younger than Muriel—maybe in her late sixties—and hair is cropped and dyed black, almost auburn in parts, the sleeves of her denim shirt rolled to her elbows.   

“This is that Richard?” she asks, regarding him with a stiff smile—as if to show him she isn’t hostile, but not much more. His stomach turns. “Donald, you two haven't—”

Muriel reaches for her walker and stands up, unwavering in her cheeriness. “Eloise, won’t you help me pick out something from the cellar? And we should really start getting the table ready. Can you two finish with the salad?" 

“Of course,” Jared says. His face is calm again, but he can tell he’s close to yanking him from the seat by the arm, already preemptively apologizing for bringing him here. Richard stands up and smiles at him in a way he hopes is reassuring, and goes to the kitchen. 

His last date before all of this, what feels like ages before he willingly got in a car headed to a ranch in Sonoma, was also his all-time worst. It was an actual get-your-number-and-go-to-dinner type date. It was with some girl named Hannah; a freelance web designer who used to work at Hooli, too, although they’d never met before. It had been going well on the whole, until his mind jumped to the worst possible thing mid-conversation, something stupid like right, gastronomy just means the study of food and culture—my friend Jared actually knows a lot about— 

“You mean Jared Dunn? That guy always kind of gave me the creeps.” 

“What?” Richard picked at his dessert, trying to look casual. “I mean—why’s that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, “something about his demeanor always just bothered me.”   

“That’s funny,” he said, then caught himself. "Or—well, it’s not that funny, but I understand. He really is a great guy if you get to know him. It’s just that people don’t always, um…respond well to him?” 

“He seemed nice”—she repeated this word as an afterthought, free of any actual meaning—“just not very good at picking up on social cues.”   

“God, you just described everyone I know.” It was meant to be a joke, but he was the only one who laughed. He sloshed the wine in his glass, a tiny purple stain dotting his thumb. 

“And the oversharing,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Some people are okay with it, but for me it was just—it’s too much.”   

“It’s not for the attention, though,” he says, his tongue starting to feel heavy from the wine. “Not like everybody else. It’s like—he thinks he needs to give a disclaimer to everyone he meets, 'hey, I’m kinda fucked up and have a lot of trauma but I’m fine!’ Don’t get me wrong, some of the stuff he tells me, just offhand, is insane. But he’s a literal genius. Like Jesus Christ, he’s a walking encyclopedia on naval history, 19th century American poets, the DSM—” 

“You know a lot about Jared,” Hannah said, quietly.   

“Um.” Richard put his glass down. "Yeah, I guess I do.”   

He saw the waiter come down with two more drinks and, mercifully, the check.

“I’m so sorry,” Jared starts, the second they’re alone. “I didn’t tell you everything when we were in the car.”   

“It’s okay,” he says, “just—what did you tell her about me that made her hate me?”   

“Eloise doesn’t hate you. She’s just a little protective of me. Really, she’s like this with everyone I bring over.” 

“Jared.” He leans both elbows onto the counter and looks him in the eye. “What does that mean.”   

“It means,” Jared says, absurdly calm, “that she's like this with everyone I bring over, Richard. We do this dinner every year, and she always has something to say about my guests. It has nothing to do with us.”   

Richard notices the tips of his ears are red. He decides not to prod anymore, even if the answer just makes him feel worse.   

Instead he steals a sliver of cucumber off the cutting board and chews it. He feels the urge to make himself useful in the kitchen, but Jared’s stonewalling him by standing at the counter, shoulders squared, slicing the tomatoes at a worrying pace. He can’t help but think he looks just like Eloise minutes ago, right down to the posture. 

When he sees a person he cares about in pain, he mirrors them. Richard knows that. He also knows she can’t be his birth mother, because she died when he was twelve. When he told him this, at four a.m. lying face to face in a bunk bed, Richard reached out his hand and pulled it to his chest.   

This is not good. It’s fine. They’re going to be fine.   

A huge, bony cat butts his head against Richard’s ankle and slides past him. He’s counted three. It yowls up at the counter, probably well aware of the biggest pushover in the room. But Jared doesn’t fold. 

“It’s not for you, Bartleby.” He scoops it up in his arms, a heap of gray fur and flailing paws, and attempts to hand it off to Richard. “Can you take him outside? Please?”   

He can’t really say no, so he gets a good grip on the cat and heads out the screen door. When he gets outside, Eloise is standing on the patio, uncorking a bottle of wine.   

“He doesn’t let everybody hold him like that,” she says, nonplussed. As she says it, Bartleby slips out of Richard’s arms. (What an awful name.) “He’s a little anxious.”   

“Me too,” Richard says. It’s a joke, but not really.   

“So how did you meet Donald?” she asks, cutting through whatever fifteen layers of bullshit he was operating on. “Why do you call him that other name?”   

“Um.” He stops, realizing he’s never had to even really confront the issue. “When I met him, that’s what he told me his name was, and it just stuck—I mean, he’s never asked me to switch. Are you saying that I should?”  

“I don’t have any opinion on what you should do,” she says, and he physically feels himself get knocked down a peg or two realizing this is far from the first time she’s had this conversation. "I just expect you to treat Donald well. He has a knack for getting manipulated by other people who don’t actually value him.”  

“I’m not one of those people,” he says. “He’s really helped me. Through a lot of awful shit. And—he’s told me, you know, things about himself—”   

“He tells everyone his things,” Eloise says. “Anyone who’s willing to listen.”   

“Like—the real things.”   

“Like what?”   

Jared steps out onto the patio, salad bowl in his hands. “Everything’s ready. Where should I put it?” 

The first thing he did after the worst date of his life, after climbing apologetically out of a Lyft, was make a beeline to the garage. Jared was there, and awake—he almost always was at that hour, back then. He was under the cheap duvet, on his laptop, leaning against some milk crates.

“How did it go?”   

“Jared,” he said, staggering to the air mattress and kneeling at the edge. “I fucked up.”   

“Oh.” He shut his laptop and sat up straight, watching him crawl closer. Richard was sure he was trying not to touch him, not to physically engage at all, expertly restrained. Always so respectful of his boundaries, always Richard’s needs before his own. “What happened? Did something go wrong with Hannah?”   

(In hindsight, he seemed a little too eager to ask.)   

“I—just realized I need to stop fucking kidding myself,” he blurted, feeling blindly for Jared’s knee. Was he crying already? It felt like it, on his face. He was pretty loaded. “I need to stop. Stop pretending.”   

“Pretending what?”   

“That—you’re not the person. The person I want to be with.” He could barely understand himself, he was sobbing so loudly, probably sounding ridiculous. “But it’s so stupid and impossible that I have to lie to myself about it.”

“Richard,” he said, hands suddenly on his shoulders, dead calm. “You’re very drunk.”   

He saw right through him. Something about his placid denial, the insistence that nothing was wrong, enraged him in that moment. “I see you looking at me all the time. I notice everything, dude, so don’t just fucking pretend you don’t want this—”   

“Richard.”   

He tried to lean in, writing checks he can’t cash. “Please. Just tell me it’s possible.”   

In some far-off fantasy world Jared could have just dropped his scruples and they could have fucked right there, on that awful air mattress, with his head two inches from the concrete. But instead he just grabbed both his wrists and held onto them, forcing Richard to go still.   

“I do. I do want it.” He looked him square in the eye. “But I don’t really think it should happen like this. Do you?”   

It wasn't a rhetorical question. Richard pulled his hands away—he wasn’t holding on that hard—and considered his options. Then he shook his head.   

“Okay. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”   

“No.”   

He cleared his throat and put his head down, on the corner of the pillow. Because there’s some fucking good left in the world, Jared slipped his arm around his shoulder and pressed his lips to a spot beneath his eyebrow, and neither of them had to say a word. 

More people start to trickle in, some of them names Richard actually recognizes—Muriel’s daughter and tiny blonde grandchild, aunts and distant friends that seem oddly excited once they find out who he is. Jared does a lot of the talking for him, anyway, and lays it on thick (probably to apologize without ever having to say anything.) Richard’s a Stanford-educated engineer; Richard’s got a brilliant mind; you two would find a lot to talk about. But before he even scratches the surface with anybody he gets whisked off to someone else.  

Which is just as well, really. He’s never good with strangers, and as usual, Jared took steps to circumvent it, steps Richard wouldn’t even think to take. Maybe he is like every other schlubby boyfriend he’s brought over.   

Muriel rings some kind of New Age dinner bell, loud and clangy, and everyone gathers around the outdoor table. It’s beautiful, actually—the backyard stretches out for what looks like forever, a wooded path not far down the hill. Once Richard finds his seat, he glances up and suddenly sees Jared pouring him a glass of wine. 

Something about the whole image is just weird. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is: “Oh. It’s white?”   

“Red wouldn’t go with this meal,” Jared says, “technically. You’re at a table of oenophiles that would say so.” 

“Right.” He already feels a little disoriented.   

“Not a big wine drinker?” Muriel asks.   

“I like it, just—” 

“That’s quite alright. It’s meant to be enjoyed with food,” she says. “This is from our vinery. We only serve what we make to friends.”   

“And Trader Joe’s,” Eloise says.   

“And Trader Joe’s. But that’s just to keep the lights on. Should we have a toast?”

The wine goes down light and easy, perfect for an amateur like himself. Eloise, spearing a few pieces of vegan gnocchi, addresses him from the other side of the table: “What were we talking about before, Richard?” 

“Whatever it was,” Jared pipes in, “I’m sure the rest of the table wouldn’t find it very interesting.”   

Of course, everyone but the three of them are caught up in other conversations. Richard looks around for some other kind of lifeline that he knows does not exist.   

“It was about you, Donald,” she says, perfectly genteel. “Just—that you two had gotten to know each other quite well in the last few months.”   

Jared knits his brow, his voice pitching up the way it does when he’s upset: “We’ve known each other about four years.”   

“I know,” Eloise says, “but this development is recent?”   

He turns to Richard, but it seems like he’s already made up his mind by the time he looks at him. “About six weeks. I don’t know why it’s so important.”   

Even she backs off after that, but Richard can tell it’s with great restraint. “Forgive me. I was just curious. Especially after the conversations we’ve had before.”  

“Eloise, it feels—really unnecessary to bring that up,” Jared says (easily the harshest thing Richard's heard him say to someone he cares for.) “Of course I forgive you. But I—” 

“No, you’re right, this is total bullshit.” Richard pushes his wine glass away from him, a little stunned at the words coming out of him—but he feels stone-cold sober and fed up with watching this same scene play out. “Jared’s a grown adult. He can make his own decisions about who he wants to date without screening them for you.”   

“Richard,” he says, his hand suddenly clasping the top of his arm, “it’s not that. She’s talking about something I said before—” 

“It doesn’t matter what you said, like, upwards of a year ago. I was probably a massive dick to you back then.” He feels eyes on him, but keeps going anyway: “She’s just using your words against you. It’s manipulative as shit and I’m not playing along with it.”   

Suddenly the table is quiet. Muriel asks, slowly: “Is everything alright, dear?”   

Richard shakes his head, pushing his chair out and standing up. “No. Sorry, I should—I should go. Sorry, everyone.” 

He hears Jared say his name, but it’s too late. He makes a break for it into the woods.

Somehow he managed to steal the rest of the wine from the ice bucket, too. He’s already made enough of a prick of himself that he figures it can’t hurt. So there he is, wandering on someone else’s property with a bottle of Sauvignon blanc. At the bottom of the hill is a tiny river, snaking a few miles down—he finds a swing chair hanging from a tree and falls back into it, just now noticing he’s half in the bag.   

Jared’s not far behind, of course. He secretly hopes he’ll turn around and prolong this conversation for as much time as possible, but the sound of his voice, his footsteps get closer until it’s unavoidable.   

Then he’s standing behind him, hand on the back of the chair, steadying the rope. “Are you okay?” 

“Why are you asking if I’m okay? I just fucked up twenty people’s evening when I was supposed to impress them.” 

“I don’t care about impressing anyone,” Jared says. “Eloise—helped me a lot. I owed it to her, for you two to meet. That’s all.”   

“Well, she met me,” Richard says, mustering a completely inappropriate laugh. “What did you say about me before that was so bad?”   

He sits down beside him. “Just that I—talk a lot and I wasn’t sure if you listened, always. But I know that’s not true now—”   

“Of course it’s not true.” Richard turns to him. “Jared, I remember everything you tell me. Like how you’re a Pisces and prefer regular Cheerios to fucking honey nut. Like—how in the tenth grade you had to memorize 'O Captain, My Captain' and it stuck with you forever. You used to daydream about sailing away from wherever you were but you were in landlocked Pennsylvania so you didn’t even see a boat in a harbor until you were nineteen and took a bus to the Jersey shore, but you kept saying you were going to the shore because that was the only thing you heard people call it, you didn’t even know it was in New Jersey until you got there. You love children. And animals. And anyone who listens to you which means a ton of shitty people take advantage of you, or they treat you like shit because they don’t get it. 

"Your favorite book is Moby Dick because you like stories about the ocean and—I don’t know, you probably relate to the whole thing of chasing something aimlessly and having it haunt you every day of your life until it kills you, but I don’t want it to kill you, Jared, I just want you to be well-adjusted and fucking happy—”   

He stops him. “I am happy. I’m happier than ever with you. Always.” 

“I’m sorry,” Richard says. “I shouldn’t have said all that. I made a prick of myself in front of people you really wanted me to meet. And you worked so hard to try to make them like me—I fucked up whatever chance we had.”

“I don’t care what they think.” Jared reaches for his hand, looking strangely giddy about all of this. “I mean—I do, but I care more about you. About us.” 

“There’s an ‘us’ now.” He doesn’t say it out of skepticism—it’s something closer to relief. 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause as he slips his arm around his waist, a troubled expression when Richard doesn’t answer, even as he leans heavily into his side. “You do know that. Right?” 

“I know.” He stares out in front of him, at the dappled sunlight and soft grass, in this place he knows he’s no longer welcome in, and squeezes Jared’s hand. “Is it okay if we go home?” 

“Of course,” Jared says. They do not move. 

[lovetheangelshadow]

W101 Fanfic: Deception is Not Always Reality Ch 3

Chapter 3: Dark Bull

The evening sun had just begun to set by the time Gabriel had walked though the world door and into the interior or Bartleby. Gabriel had changed to a nicer set of threads for the occasion. A double-breasted waistcoat with dark colored slacks and a long black peat coat. The look was completed with a wide brimmed hat that shadowed a good deal of his face. The detective stepped foot onto the school pathway and waved a loud hello at Bartleby. The tree’s singular eye peered down on him.

“Oh, hello there. I have not seen you before…or have I?” Gabriel turned to see Bartleby’s left eye was gone. So, the rumors really had been true. He was going to have to have a word with that stupid old wizard. There were still a few students straggling around. One or two noticed him step onto the cobblestone paths with heavy snapping crunches under his boots. A cavalier dressed man of considerable height was hard to ignore. Gabriel had hardly made his way to the tunnel exit when he heard an odd sound pierce the still air. It was a shriek followed by grunting bellows and snorts. The loose gravel began to dance at Gabriel’s boots in increasing beats as the nice grew louder in his direction. The man just barely stepped back when the tunnel exit had burst apart in a swirl of dust and smoke. As Gabriel had lowered his arm, he had used to shield himself, at his feet was a small boy. A small trickle of blood was gracing his blonde tresses from where a large piece of stone had struck him. A figure, even taller than he was, was now emerging from the shadows of the archway. He grabbed the child just as an axe burst through the darkened smoke and slashed from above. He did not exactly have time to see just what crashed through as he scooped up the boy in one arm and began running on all fours. The nearest school to him was the Storm School. With a deft leap he rolled his way towards the door where he nearly tore it off its hinges and unceremoniously tossed the child inside.

The pursuer had at last made itself known as the dust settled about its hooves. A massive minotaur now stood among the rubble of the archway. It’s flesh and fur were an ebony black color so deep that it almost made it a solid shadow. The only thing clearly untouched by the blackness was its yellow eyes that shone bright enough to give the creature a sickly golden haze. Roaring a terrible annoyance at losing sight of its prey, the beast smashed its heavy cloven feet hard on the ground and set debris scattering around it. Gabriel skirted around as stone and sand struck against his shoulders and face. He had to get close enough to the monster to pull it into a Duel Circle and keep it pinned.

This beast swung its heavy axe wide towards the dark detective. As Gabriel bounced back just barely as the axe graced a few buttons on his waistcoat. He had little time to voice his annoyance when a heavy branch thudded hard against his chest and he crashed into the Life School’s building. Gabriel’s body peeled off the wall with a sickening thump as he fell forward onto the branch that had struck him.

“Oh dearie me sweetie! That looked awful”, Blossom cooed. The detective inhaled and felt his chest pop like an expanding balloon as he grasped at the bark of the Life Tree to steady himself back up. This beast was smart-far too smart for someone of their general species. The creature was almost at the Storm School doorway. Students who had chosen to stay behind had flung their own spells at the beast trying to drive it off. The duels had slowed it down, if only barely, as it was about go gather the pips needed to knock each student unconscious with a single blow from the axe it was holding so tightly on to. Gabriel snarled in annoyance. He did not have time to deal with this nonsense. With barely a flash of black flame, Gabriel was directly behind the minotaur and announced the duel.

At the ground below them a circle of light formed on the street, Shimmering tendrils of sparking light latched onto both Gabriel’s and the minotaur’s feet and pulled the pair onto the opposite ends of the circle. Small gold and white wisps began to form in the air around them though they were only visible to the pair. A triangle formed in the center and turned its pointed at Gabriel first. He grinned and flicked a yellowish beige card in front of his face A small bolt lighting erupted from the circle where the minotaur stood and it was suddenly frozen in place. The beast struggled against the stun enchantment and snarled its anger. Gabriel then stared at the beast and did nothing on his free turn. On the minotaur’s turn free from the stun is when Gabriel saw what he needed to know. The pips surrounding them were suddenly drawn to the blade of the weapon like a gobbler vacuuming any food. Eight pips and two Shadow Pips had burst around the circle at the cloven feet of the monster. With a yell, a giant snake erupted from the center of the duel circle where it wrapped its shadow dripping coils and gave Gabriel a hard squeeze. The serpent did not vanish after it had struck either. Instead, it continued to hold the man tight in its coils. The duel circle began to flicker on the ground-where it should have just stayed until the duel ended in either a yield, knockout, or death. This minotaur was somehow able to break away from the rules. The pointer was now facing Gabriel again. He had one good strike before he suffocated. He struggled his great muscles until he wrenched one arm loose. A large bolt of darkness erupted from his four fingered palm and struck both the hand and face of the axe. The blast had knocked the weapon from the beast’s hand and it collided into the ground near Kelvin. The snake collapsed into pixie dust almost immediately; letting the detective fall onto his face. The minotaur yelped in terror and fled the circle to try and grab its weapon. As it had left, Gabriel noted that the beast was striking with each step until it was only just barely taller than Gabriel himself.

“Oh no you don’t!” Gabriel hurled himself against the monster and forced it to the ground. The beast struggled as it continued to shrink further as its once powerful muscles began to atrophy and the horns shortened to mere stubs. Gabriel was soon holding a minotaur runt under his knee.

“You are a really bad little minotaur, aren’t you? Why didn’t you pick on someone your own size?” The minotaur snarled and yelled in its own language and Gabriel gave a good hard tug on the runt’s arm behind his back.

“Now now now, none of that. I’ll make this simple. Who sent you and why? Answer that and I won’t break every one of your ribs one at a time.”

“I’d sooner choke on your bones, human!” the minotaur hissed. Gabriel rolled his eyes. Must they always do it the hard way? The human leaned down and whispered something into the sow’s ear. Suddenly the runt squirmed and mooed in pain.

“You feel it don’t you? You felt the boons of Shadow…now let us see how well you handle the other side. Bit by bit it’ll scratch and eat away at your soul until there is nothing left but a shambling husk. How long will you last? An hour? A few minutes? A few seconds?”

“I…I don’t know! The man wore a hood the whole time. He said he would make me strong! Unstoppable. He gave me the axe. I don’t know why I went after the kid. I just felt I had to! Arrrghh! Make it stop! STOP IT PLEASE!” So, the runt had just been a convenient weapon. Gabriel snapped his fingers and the beast slumped to the ground-unconscious but alive. By now the city guards had some in. Took them long enough, Gabriel chuffed to himself as he let them take away the creature. Then Gabriel saw the glimpses of a man in yellow robes looking at Gabriel with a less than pleased expression.

“So…you’re here”, Cyrus frowned.

“Pure business”, Gabriel grinned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an old wizard have discourse with.”