#oh dark harbor is pretty good too

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat

construction worker!rafe spends his days ‘lifting heavy stuff and building shit’ and is always showing up to the small cafe shy!reader works at all sweaty and white shirt dirtied...

c/w: rafe being flirty, her having the biggest crush on him, suggestive, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1k

hope you enjoy xx

series masterlist

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Every time the golden bell above the door of the coffee shop dings and Rafe’s eyes settle on her soft form, the edges of his mouth tilt up— offering her a lazy grin as he asks what baked good she’d recommend for him to try that day.  

His visits have become something she begins to look forward to, him asking about her day with his raspy voice and big biceps bulging as he leans against the counter; always managing to drag a nervous giggle out of her. She feels like a Pavlov’s dog, her brain tingling and mind buzzing like a bee when the clock ticks away and the time he usually walks through the mustard yellow door approaches.   

And he thinks she’s just as sweet as sugar, especially when she smiles at him all bashful, trying to hide the way her eyes round out and her breath gets caught in her throat whenever he leans closer to her; asking what she’s doing after her shift with a slow drawl.  

And while she’s busy answering, he lifts his thumb to her cheek to swipe away a smudge of flour dusted over the skin there, lingering for a second too long. “Messy girl,” he’d murmur, purposefully trying to make her blush, taunting her.   

Slowly but surely, his visits become the best part of her day when she realizes she’s beginning to harbor fond, gooey feelings towards the slightly older guy who makes a show of loudly humming in satisfaction when he bites into a raspberry chocolate muffin she’s baked, honey dripping from his tongue when he showers her in compliments.   

And he seems to be pleased when she diverts her jittery eyes from his gaze and tries to busy herself with swiping a rag over a spot on the countertop (for the fourth time already), sneaking glances at him indulging in the confectioneries she’s practically forcing him to taste test now because whenever she tries a new recipe, she always wants him to be the first one to try it. And he’s not complaining.   

When he finds out she walks home by herself, even late at night, there’s no other option for him but to insist on driving her home because he doesn’t like the idea of such a pretty girl walking alone in the dark, doesn’t like it at all.   

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t wanna be a bother, m’fine,” she denies him immediately, to which he merely furrows his brows; telling her it wouldn’t be a bother at all since he can often work quite late as well— practically demanding to know what time she gets off that night. And she has no choice but to hesitantly reply, his stern tone almost compelling her to give into his every wish.   

It becomes a routine for them; him waiting for her to finish up cleaning and her mumbling out a soft thank you when he holds the door of his truck open with his palm on the small of her back guiding her inside. Whenever he teases her about being his little passenger princess, she practically melts into a puddle on the seat; trying to hide her flustered face from him, but failing miserably.  

And no matter how many times he’s driven her home, she still feels rather overwhelmed in the small space of his car, a plum tinge heating up her face whenever she feels his eyes on her, catching her staring at his big hands. She doesn’t know why he’s allowed to have such alluring details in the first place; a singular gold ring adorning his index finger and his strawberry lips so inviting.  

Therefore, it’s not really her fault when her mind gets lost in a haze and her brain turns foggy when she notices how his strong arms flex whenever he turns the steering wheel while his thumb taps against the leather. Or when his blunt fingernails scratch at the slight stubble on his face and she wonders how it would feel on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs or— 

“You, uh, you good, sweetheart?” Rafe asks and she blinks, realizing he’s asked her a question. A question her dazed cerebrum has no recollection of.   

“Sorry?” her face burns with embarrassment.  

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “What’s on your mind, hm?”   

“Oh, um— nothing, just, uh, tired and…stuff,” she attempts to sound convincing.  

However, his grin only widens. “Yeah? So, you, uh, you tellin’ me you weren’t just checkin’ me out?” his tone turns into something patronizing.   

“What? I— no, no I was just—”  

“Relax, m’just fuckin’ with you,” but there’s a mocking glint in his eyes that indicates she’s not being very subtle. 

“Asked if you were hungry?” he flits his eyes to hers once more.  

“Uh...yeah, sure. Don’t even remember how long it’s been since I ate lunch to be honest,” she starts to ramble, trying to ignore the murky thoughts trying to breach the surface.   

“Why don’t you, uh, come over to my place then ‘n I could make you somethin? Jus sayin’...I’m a great cook. Feels unfair that you’re always the one fillin’ up my belly,” he says as his mind starts to concoct a few other ways he could fill up her belly, willing to bet that she’d let him.   

After all, he’s not an idiot. He sees the way her moony eyes travel down his features whenever she thinks he’s not paying attention— thinks it’s absolutely adorable how sheepish she gets about it. However, he’s hesitant about the right way to approach it, not wanting to scare the shy little thing away.  

Therefore, he opts to warm her up with a homemade meal, and afterwards let her have a sweet treat; fuck her dumb until tears trickle down her cheeks and she’s a whimpering mess. He knows he could make her feel so good, wants to show her just how much she’s missing— wants to make her beg for it and wants to be a little mean about it, but most of all just wants to make her his. 

“Um…okay,” she agrees with a nod of her head because how is she supposed to deny him of anything when he’s looking at her with those eyes that resemble dulcet water puddles? 

[thatdeadaquarius]

Topic: Genshin impact.

au: Sagau.

idea: So what if you had the powers of every character you played as in every game you played and then get isekaid into genshin impact with imposter au. I imagine it goes smth like

Zhongli: “I will have order!”

reader, Who played Roblox as someone who lagged the game (explanation: I’m pretty sure ping is also how time works in games. If you can control the flow of ping you can control the flow of time in games.): “ZA WARUDO!”

Heyyy!! Thanks for waiting for the reply/response from my slow ass :0

So they did clarify what they meant/expand so imma just copy paste that here!

“k now I remember. So basically imma write it here since it’s easier: Basically you don’t have to (but you can) transform into the character that has those set of powers but if you do those powers are enhanced.”

Sun: Reader (”you”/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Light Imposter AU (as in, NOT Yandere/Dark), mild crossover elements bc Shapeshifter Shenanigans™️

Stars: bro idek

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, genshin typical mild violence, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

so fair warning,, ive never seen jojo bizarre, but i appreciate i come off well-read/watched? LMAO

so im just gonna kinda,, guess? like just cycle thru diff. random media, and im hoping both me and you reading this will have a fun time (as this is a little challenge, but i like it so ill give it a shot, dont kno if its a good one but- 😅)

so to set the scene, of how u got to this point, ykno of running like ur life (maybe?) depends on u running around different teyvat countries,

u thought it was weird everyone knew a little too much about you?? (ofc theyve heard u during gaming, they know u the same way we all know Markiplier, get it?)

then a bunch of NPCs/Vision users/Archons?? were REALLY invested in talking to you, which freaked u out even more

and by the time you saw Zhongli, yknow, just the oldest god in game, making a fast-walk towards you, ykno the retired god who didnt move an inch when an old water god attacked Liyue for a test, is now hurrying to you???

ur logically get so fucking scared sm shits abt to go down, u just start running

it isnt until ur reaching for a ledge and some webbing shoots out of ur arm (from a glitchy little spot on ur arm, where it could be coming out of ur skin, but sometimes its a blue and red bracelet)

it latched onto the nearest building, and thats how u find out u can grapple ur way, literally Spiderman style, out of the harbor

and bro, idk if it would be fun, or confusing and stressful, or maybe both?? to just find out u can use any video game power from any game youve played before as you go running from countries bc for some freaky reason they know too much abt you/are pursuing you-

dUDE- they had small statues of you in like every little section of their cities

u head to Mondstadt and as Venti comes screaming and flying at you (in excitement, but ur freaked), u go to hold a hand up and suddenly ur holding a heavy stone tablet that unleashes some holographic yellow chains that freeze him in place-?? why is this familiar-

oh my god u have the sheikah slate from Breath of the Wild,

and as ur booking it out of there, u manage to get ahold of a sword, and u know exactly how to use it to knock back favonius knights trying to stop you (they are concerned for their god who is just unleashing random powers on ppl, pls let Grandmaster Jean just talk to you Your Majesty-!!)

by the time you teleport ur way to Inazuma, (bc u still have this worlds access to ur player/traveler’s powers), ur trying to find a nice place to stay for a little bit

at least in that sweet spot of the Raiden not noticing/finding you, while things cool down on the main continent, before moving on,

and u get some tools to help fashion just a little shelter, bc u dont have any money/mora rn, and ur able to literally build a house???

a mailbox pops up and thanks you for renting with Tom Nook???? As in Animal Crossing-

and rlly if the BOTW/slate thing didnt clue u into video game powers, then this definitely would tbh lmao

right as u see Yae Miko circling ur house, with an armful of books? ..is she planning to thru them at you??, u get the hell out of dodge before her favorite god can follow along

(she knows ur prefrences in books and got authors/trends to start so youd have plenty to read, and she was making sure it was ur house before politely dropping them off! how was she to know thatd spook their favorite God, Ei?!)

u get to Sumeru and think ur safe, hiding in an abandoned forest watcher outpost (1 person treehouse rlly) when Nahida shows up in ur dreams,

and u just,

walk out of the dream, into reality, and possess a nearby ruin guard so u can sleep in peace, bc she cant access a robot,

that one baffled u as you re-possessed ur own body before realizing-

Five Nights at Freddy’s. 💀

U cant do that forever, so u try Fontaine, hoping Neuvillette/Furina wont rlly give af abt you, plus theyre the latest region, so maybe they have the least exposure to whatever the other archons didnt like abt you??

u get there and are immediately summoned to court, and right as the mekas show up to escort you, jfc they have a mecha army

(meanwhile, theyre thinking, yknow. high profile guest/our god of gods. ofc we need state of the art mekas to escort them, its only polite-)

meanwhile ur cape has now become wings, and a mask covers ur face as you glide and fly ur way over the city in an attempt to get to where u assume Snezhnaya is

it doesnt occur to you the game until ur running out of stamnia and catch ur reflection in the waters of fontaine, Sky: Children of the Light

u hope the Tsaritsa’s dislike for other gods/Celestia doesnt extend to ur otherworldly presence so ur just hoping for the best atp tbh

tbh youd forget what all powers you have, and the absolute chaos ur causing urself as u try to desperately rememeber what games youve played thru ur entire life is NOT helping to reduce confusion when u randomly wake up with elf ears (legend of zelda/botw) or get dragged into another ruin machine when u fall asleep/faint/do smth u guess mimics death lmao- (fnaf) 💀

…

(meanwhile the Tsaritsa does get wind ur coming this way, and just, makes the people have a parade/festival to celebrate you coming,

she did also have to get Pierro/Captaino to physically restrain some of them from going ahead to meet/escort you to the palace, she’d heard how the others scared u off, and was, ironically, hoping the warm welcome would clear things up)

☆

well that was, something. 😃🫠

sorry lil car, that was such a fun idea idk if i did it justice!! i thought itd be too op to include every media youve consumed ever, so i kept it to video games, (which, could u cheat the system if youve played smash bros??)

i hope it was at least a decent read, and sorry im half asleep so i was not v funny this time around, but, again, hope u got smth out of it 😭

</3

on another note, im having my wisdom teeth surgery this friday, send whatever u got my way, prayers, blessings, good vibes, ill take anything im nervous 🙃

have a good week guys!

Safe Travels Lil Car,

💀♒

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(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

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[yandere-wishes]

HAPPY ACOLYTE DAY!! To those who celebrate!!

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

Imagine...

Play fighting over food with Qimir. Yes, he's a big scary Sith lord...but he's also just a dude.

Him lying on top of you on the couch trying to bite your cookie as you keep it out of reach. Sure he can use the force...but then the moment will be over. And he wants to keep you like this, smiling and under him, for as long as possible.

You writhe beneath him, fragile giggle caught in your throat. "Master~" you whine. Still trying to guard your precious snack. Your voice always holds such a gentle, melodic lilt. Sweet,docile maliable.

He reaches for the cookie again, teeth grasping the baked dough, chipping off a piece before it's pulled away once more. "No Qimir, No" Force why did he have to choose you as his acolyte? Why did you have to chew his heart with star-sharp teeth?

It doesn't matter that he loves you. That he'd burn star systems for your love. The two of you are star crossed in they your ancestors always have been.

doomed doomed doomed.

For now, he'll dub it a privilege to be killed at your hand. 'Kiss me before my final breath'. He prays ferociously. A will he intrusts to the force.

You turn suddenly, hair sprawled across the velvet cushions. You kiss the bulge of his biceps, tracing your lips across the nebula of veins. Kissing your captivation, like it's salvation. He sings out a low moan.

Childish little girl.

He wonders if he means every word as an insult or praise.

Qimir can't help himself. He freckles your chubby cheeks with empyrean kisses. Inhaling your sweet perfume.

Nuclear novas and roses before rain.

Good, he thinks. He's molded you just right.

There is childlike persistence in your gaze. Calculating the stars between his soul. You finally lower the cookie, holding it between taut lips. "Oh, I see". He leans down once more, chewing on sharp edges, munching through soft chocolate chips until...

Until you break it off down the middle. Stuffing the larger, broken crater into your mouth." Well then..." he laughs, feigning annoyance.

His lips on yours. Sweet, sweet, sweet. conquer, that is the way of the sith. To ravage and consume. Longing for a world were they can be free once more. "Take and consume. That is our way. We must conquer that which we desire." His lesson falls only partially on deaf ears. You're too enraptured with the way your master's lips move against yours. The sweet citrus and herb taste of his tongue gliding sinfully inside your mouth.

You look up at him with eyes that harbor galaxies and he'd do anything to pluck each star from your eyes and consume it's ichore. Sucking until they turn dark, on the brink of explosion. As much as he'd love for you to be decile. You are, first and foremost, his pupil. The one he must raise into sith ways, preparing the next piece in a grand scheme.

But for now, in this chocolate chip and red velvet moment. You are simply his little doll. Kissing pretty against his lips as he traces constellations across your hips. His. His. His

His precious little acolyte.

[strawberrygirll13]

I care about you

Dazai x Reader

Pt 1

Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.

The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I’d die happy.”

You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”

He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”

You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”

He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”

Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”

Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself—Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”

You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”

Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.

“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”

“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”

You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.

"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.

You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”

He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”

Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.

Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.

With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.

The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.

You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.

It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.

The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

He’d moved it.

Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”

“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.

This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.

His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.

And then, he started writing notes.

At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.

You ignored it.

A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.

By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.

“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”

You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.

“WHY?”

You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.

But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.

“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.

The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.

“Did you mean it?”

Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.

“Mean what?”

You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.

“That you want me to die with you?”

When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.

It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”

Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”

“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.

For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.

“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.

Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”

“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

A few hours later ~

The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.

It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.

Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.

You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.

You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”

“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.

As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.

The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.

You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.

It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.

The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.

At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.

Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.

As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?

The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.

You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.

“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."

You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.

Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.

You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.

The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.

Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."

His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.

"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."

Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"

You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.

"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."

He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.

Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.

"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.

[afyrian]

midnight movie iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader (fluff) wc: 870 | halloween event: day two

    "i’ve always been here, bitch!” a cloaked figure stands in front of you, shadowing you from the setting sun. 

  as he holds up a knife, your hands raise, forearms resting in front of your face. swinging his hand down, the knife collides with the side of your forearm, blood squirting out of your flannel shirt. “you see me now?” the figure screams out, raising the knife once more, only to quickly bring it down against your chest.

  blood seeps out of the pocket square on the shirt, splashing up onto your face as you let out a final scream. bloodcurdling and terrifying, your hands clench into fists against his shirt, your eyes slowly closing. laying there, you wait a moment before a loud voice booms over the set, “cut! oikawa, could you get your vocal coach? maybe work on getting you to a lower octave, it just doesn’t sound right.”

  peeking open an eye, you see oikawa rolling his eyes. getting up from where he was kneeling over you, his head shakes slightly below the hood, “fine, but you should start giving y/n some pointers too. i mean the screams nice but eh her acting’s a bit off.”

  “oh fuck off,” both of your eyes finally open, your hand slapping against his knee, “you’re just jealous that my voice is deeper than yours, maybe i should be the murderer and you can be the final girl.”

  oikawa laughs to himself, “good luck trying to propose that to the studio,” stepping over you to look for his vocal coach and likely the craft services. 

  smiling to yourself, you can feel the corn syrup mixture resting on your face. laying down on the grass, the fake lighting carries through the late night darkness. it’s nearing midnight and exhaustion is starting to coarse through you. the long days, the long nights filming, getting to lay there for a second and stare up to the stars is the only thing keeping you going. 

  “you okay down there?” iwaizumi questions, standing over you. 

  a notebook rests in his hand, a backwards ball cap pushed down on his head. you recognize the red thread along the edges, remembering a bloody knife embroidered into the front of the cap. it was a gift from you when filming started. “just taking a second before the crew has to clean me off again,” you meet his gaze, his eyes gorgeous as ever.

  “mind if i join you?” his voice is softer than when he addresses everyone, hands flipping the notebook closed.

  “sure, it’s actually pretty comfortable when you get past the whole ‘laying on dirt’ thing,” one of your hands pats the spot next to you, the grass poking your fingers. 

  iwaizumi slowly makes his way down to the grass, starting up at the dark sky. it all seems larger when he looks at it from the ground, like he’s an ant seeing the world for the first time. tilting his head to look at you, his gaze softens as a smile twitches on the sides of his lips. “thanks for helping with this project, you didn’t have to,” he murmurs, watching as you turn to look at him.

  one of your eyebrows raise, the other furrowing, “i absolutely did. it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. this grant could make both of our careers, iwa.”

  “yeah, but it could also break both of our careers. it’s a cliché horror film, everyone’s seen something similar to this before,” he looks back up at the sky, hands resting on top of each other on his stomach. 

  pursing your lips, you lightly nod. you know he’s not only right, but also so unbelievably wrong. this film, albeit harboring cliché tropes, was like nothing you’d ever seen before. it was iwaizumi’s creation, and watching him tear himself up for not discovering something more original kills you.

  “this movie is going to be amazing, iwa. you can’t doubt yourself, especially when so many people believe in you and this script. it’s a masterpiece,” you look back up at the stars as well, not noticing when he turns to look back at you.

  you also don’t notice the solemn look on his face. the way his gaze grabs ahold of you in an attempt to not let go. ever since you auditioned for the film, iwaizumi has been intrigued by you. drawn to your unique ideas and the smile that always seems to make its way to your face. yet he’s forced to look away when he considers the power balance between actor and director. 

  a part of him wants to tell you that you look beautiful, blood and all. but all he can do is stare. “thank you y/n. i hope if this does work out for you, making you a famous actor, you’ll still audition for my next role,” iwaizumi noticed the makeup crew walking towards the set, torn between conveying his deepest desires or pushing it even father down.

  “how about we go celebrate after this movie’s release before we start talking about a professional future together,” you joke, hoping he’ll catch the humor in you practically asking him out to dinner, “i’ve always enjoyed a nice boudreaux.” 

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@bae-ashlynn @puffychu6781

[star-spacer]

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 2

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

(Part 1)

Part 2: Soaked

You learn a wise lesson about avoiding Penguin and Shachi after their swim patrols.

The seasoned members of the crew knew better enough than to hang around the wet room or the surrounding areas when Penguin and Shachi came back from their dives.

You, however, were not a seasoned member of the crew. You were never around when the pair headed into the waters, or came back, so you thought nothing of it when you stuck your head into a room upon earring splashing sounds coming from it. Your eyes widened when you saw the strangely structured room and the two equally drenched crew members. 

“Well, that was a good patrol, Peng!” Shachi said, muscles staining as he closed the door and sealed it shut with the hand wheel.  “And we got fish for dinner, too!”

Water poured from them both—and the net of writhing fish at Penguin’s feet—running in rivulets to the drains set throughout the room.

“Oh, hey!” Penguin grinned, catching sign of you. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” you began. “I just heard water splashing and got curious. What’s this room?”

Penguin let out an ‘ah’. “That’s right. You haven’t seen it yet, huh?”

Before you could even blink, Shachi was right next to you. To your horror, one soaking-wet arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into an equally wet side. You flinched, hands coming up to push him away. The redhead clung to you like a limpet, however, dragging you into the room in question.

“This is the wet room!” Shachi explained, throwing an arm out as if to showcase it. In the background, Penguin made little jazz hands. 

“Cool,” you said limply, lamenting your clothes. It didn’t explain why they were dripping wet, though. 

Penguin’s hat-–still on his head—squelched as he wrung out the flaps. “You have no idea what we’re talking around, do you?”

You shook your head as Shachi wilted in disappointment.

“The island we come from is a North Blue island,” Penguin explained. “For ours, we have especially cold harbors, and a high percentage of the population also boast fishman ancestry.”

You squinted. “So you and Shachi are part fishmen, then?”

“Yep!” Shachi said, popping the ‘p’. He leaned closer and grinned, pulling at his mouth to show you his teeth. A veritable row of canines gleamed at you, sharp and pointed like a predator’s.

“Huh,” you said eloquently. Your uniform dripped onto the floor.

Penguin lifted the ears of his hat when you looked over, giving you a peek of the short, dark hair by the side of his head. On his temple was a scattering of smooth, pale-blue and black  scales, glinting in the light. They littered his hairline in small patches down to his neck, peeking through the dark strands of hair there.

“Pretty…”

Shachi groaned. “‘Pretty’, is that all you have to say??? Seriously?? I have fangs! We have gills!”

“Back to the point,” Penguin redirected before Shich could strip down to show you wherever his gills were. “This is the room Shachi and I use to get in and out of the sub underwater. The inventor who made this submarine built it especially for us, but it’s good for the crew to know how it works too.”

Shachi finally left your side to slap the door he was closing earlier. “This bad boy is fitted with a two-door system, both with built-in seals. The first hatch is on the outside and opens slowly to let water and us in from the outside. It closes and a system drains and pumps it back out. Once done, this inner door unseals and Penguin and I can enter the sub.”

“The two-door system helps control the water pressure, so there’s less chance of a leak,” Penguin said.

“Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya are you guys still in here—” Law stopped and stared at you, a pitying look on his face. “Ah, you got poor Tailor-ya…”

You squinted at that statement and his all too knowing look at your state, trying to straighten out your clothes. “W-What do you mean? Is this like something common?”

“Well…” Penguin began.

Shachi began whistling innocently.

“The crew always avoid them when they come back because they always latch on to the nearest person before changing out,” Law said. “Everyone’s been a victim of them at least once. I forgot to warn you.”

“Well, at least I’m not all the way wet,” you grumbled, pulling at your shirt.

“I’m surprised about that, too,” Law drawled, shifting his sword on his shoulder. “Usually both of them go for their victim at once.”

That was the wrong thing to say as both men stilled, head turning to look at you before at each other.

“Hug time!” They exclaimed.

Your eyes widened. “Hey, hey, hey, NO—”

Two bodies slammed into either side of you, pinning you in between them with a wet squelch.

At seeing your distraught expression, Law grimaced in sympathy. 

Both men had to unstick themselves from you, attention going to Law as they dragged you along. “Let’s get Cap!”

He quickly pulled up his Devil Fruit Powers to Shamble away, a scrap of paper fluttering to the ground where he was.

[eternalfarae]

Warning: non con,nsfw,minors dni, pedophile,incest, step siblings trope,daddy kink,pet names,forced fucking,manipulation,dark themes,sub reader

"Hurry up, we're going to be late," Rindou called from the kitchen. You rolled your eyes at his usual morning panic, feeling a twinge of annoyance. How could someone be so hyperactive this early?

You stumbled into the room, half-awake, and saw him standing by the stove, his lavender jellyfish hair swaying as he stirred something in a pan. The smell of sizzling bacon filled the air, making your stomach rumble. Despite the irritation, your mouth watered. You had to admit, he was a pretty good cook.

"Why do you always do this?" you groaned, rubbing your eyes. "It's like you enjoy watching me run around."

Rindou's lavender eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced at you over his shoulder. "Maybe I do, little sis," he said, his voice low and teasing. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the way he said "little," drawing it out just a bit too long. It had always been his way of hinting at the darker desires he harbored for you, something that had grown more intense over the years.

"Cut it out," you snapped, trying to hide the fear that was starting to bubble up inside you. You've known about Rindou's sick obsession for a while now, but you never knew how to confront him about it. The situation was complicated, to say the least. He was your step-brother, after all, and you didn't want to ruin the fragile peace that existed between the two of you. Plus, there was that one night a few months ago when he had caught you looking at those explicit manga pages under your pillow. He had promised not to tell anyone, but the price he had demanded in return was your silence about his own twisted thoughts.

You took a seat at the kitchen table, trying to ignore the way his eyes raked over your body. You felt naked under his gaze, even though you were fully clothed. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife. The sound of the eggs cracking and the sizzle of the bacon on the pan were the only sounds that pierced the heavy silence.

As he plated the breakfast, you could feel his eyes on you, burning holes into your back. When he set the plate in front of you, his hand lingered a moment too long, his fingertips brushing against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You jumped, your heart racing.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feigning innocence. "You seem on edge today."

You swallowed hard, pushing the plate away. "I'm just not hungry," you lied, your voice shaking.

Rindou's gaze narrowed slightly, but he didn't press the issue. He sat down across from you, his own plate of food untouched. The juice glass he had placed in front of you shimmered in the morning light, the orange liquid inside seemingly innocuous. You took a tentative sip, the sweetness coating your tongue. It was a bit too sweet, but you chalked it up to Rindou's overzealous use of sugar. The tension in your chest eased slightly, and you took another sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat.

Within minutes, you felt a strange warmth spread through your body. Your limbs grew heavier, your thoughts slower. You looked up at Rindou, his grin wider now, his eyes gleaming with something darker than mischief. "What did you do?" you managed to slur, your words thick and clumsy.

He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed and smug. "Oh, I just added a little something to your juice to make sure we have a fun day together," he said, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Ecstasy. He had spiked your drink. Panic began to set in, but it was too late. The drug was already taking hold.

As the warmth grew, your inhibitions melted away. The room spun gently around you, and the edges of your vision blurred. Rindou's eyes remained on you, a hungry expression etched onto his face. You felt your body respond to his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the drug amplified your senses. The fabric of your shirt felt like it was made of a thousand feathers caressing your skin. The smell of the bacon was now intoxicating, making your mouth water uncontrollably.

Your chair felt like it was sinking into the floor, and you had to grip the edge of the table to keep from sliding out of it. Rindou's voice grew louder in your ears, his words becoming a siren's song. "You know you want this," he murmured, his tone a dark caress. "You've always wanted this, haven't you?"

You tried to shake your head, to protest, but your body wasn't listening to you anymore. The ecstasy was weaving its tendrils through your thoughts, making everything feel softer, more pliable. His pet names, once so grating, now seemed almost sweet, a twisted lullaby that was lulling you into a dangerous sense of security. "No," you whispered, the word barely audible.

"Yes, yes you do," Rindou murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand reached across the table, taking yours in a gentle but firm grip. His thumb traced circles on your palm, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "They're not home today, remember?" he said, his voice a velvet whisper. "It's just you and me, little girl."

You tried to pull away, but your muscles felt like they were made of jelly. The room spun and the only thing grounding you was the feel of his hand on yours. His words echoed in your mind, a twisted reminder of your vulnerability. You couldn't help but feel a strange mix of fear and excitement. His pet names had always sent a shiver down your spine, but now, with the ecstasy clouding your thoughts, they held a seductive power.

Rindou leaned closer, his lavender eyes darkening with desire. "You're so beautiful when you're like this," he murmured, his breath hot on your cheek. His free hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on the sensitive skin of your neck. You could feel his hunger for you, the way his gaze devoured you. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Your heart thudded in your chest, each beat echoing through your entire body. The room was a kaleidoscope of colors, the sounds of his breathing and the ticking of the kitchen clock the only things that seemed real. You were acutely aware of every sensation—the coolness of the glass against your fingers, the sticky residue of the orange juice on your lips, the way your pulse thrummed in your temples.

"D-don't," you protested weakly, but your voice was lost in the haze of pleasure that enveloped you. His touch was like fire, burning away all your resistance, leaving you a trembling mess. He leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper that danced across your skin. "But it's what you've always wanted, isn't it, little girl?" His voice was a caress, a seductive lure that you found impossible to resist.

Your body responded to his words, your nipples tightening and your pussy growing wet. The fear was still there, lurking in the shadows of your mind, but the ecstasy washed it away, replacing it with an overwhelming need. Rindou noticed the change in you, his smile growing wider. He stood up from the chair, pulling you to your feet, his hand never leaving yours. He led you to the couch, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes never leaving yours.

The room spun as he sat down, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and the heat from his body seeped into your own. He leaned in, whispering, "Call me Daddy," his voice a low, needy rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You hesitated, but the drug made it easier, the word slipping from your lips almost naturally. "Daddy," you murmured, your voice barely a whimper.

Rindou's eyes lit up at the sound, and he tightened his grip around you. His other hand began to roam up your body, tracing the curves of your waist and the swell of your breasts. You gasped as his fingers found your nipple, pinching and teasing it through the fabric of your shirt. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure mixing with the fear in a heady cocktail that left you dizzy and breathless. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "That's it, little girl," he crooned, his hot breath sending waves of heat down your neck.

With surprising strength, he flipped you over, so you were straddling him, your legs trembling. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you to grind against his erection. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as the friction sent sparks of pleasure through you. "Call me Daddy again," he demanded, his voice thick with lust. You obeyed, the word slipping out in a desperate whine. The room was spinning faster now, the colors blending into one another until all you could see were his eyes, his smirk, the dark desire in his gaze.

The fabric of your pants became a prison, trapping the heat between your legs. He reached down, his hands deftly undoing your zipper and sliding the material down your hips. Your panties followed, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of his grip. You felt the head of his cock nudge against your entrance, and even though you knew you should be fighting, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the invasion.

He groaned as he pushed into you, the drug making every sensation tenfold. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as you began to ride him, the feeling of his thickness filling you up unlike anything you had ever experienced. You were lost in the haze of pleasure, his voice echoing in your ears, urging you on. "That's it, little girl, fuck me like you want it," he growled, his teeth digging into your neck.

You felt the pressure building within you, the ecstasy pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Each thrust was like a lightning bolt, sending waves of pleasure through your body. The room was a blur, but his face remained in sharp focus, his lavender eyes never leaving yours. He loved the power he had over you, the way you moaned and whimpered for him, calling him "Daddy." It was a twisted game, one you had never wanted to play, but the drug made it feel like a sweet, forbidden fruit that you couldn't help but crave.

His hands slid down to your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he held you in place, his hips bucking up to meet yours. His breathing grew ragged, his grip tightening. "Fuck, you're so good at this," he panted, his voice a mix of praise and possession. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the scream that was threatening to escape. The fear was still there, a cold, hard knot in your stomach, but it was overshadowed by the intense pleasure that was building within you.

The room was a whirlwind of sensation—the heat of his skin, the slickness between your legs, the smell of sex that was starting to fill the air. Each time he thrust up into you, it sent shockwaves through your body, making your toes curl and your nails dig into his shoulders. His pet names grew more demanding, his voice a growl that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. "Daddy," you whimpered, the word a desperate plea for more.

But then you saw it. A tiny, unassuming black dot in the corner of the room. A camera. Panic shot through your veins, sobering you up a bit from the drug-induced haze. He was filming this. Recording your humiliation for his own sick pleasure. The thought made you want to throw up, but you couldn't move, couldn't fight back. The ecstasy had taken control, leaving you a helpless plaything in his hands.

Rindou noticed your eyes widen and the subtle tension that had entered your body. He leaned back, his smirk growing even more twisted. "Don't worry, baby," he cooed. "Daddy will take care of you. And we'll have a little souvenir to remember our special day together." The realization of what was happening made your heart race even faster, your body shaking with fear and arousal.

You looked away from the camera, focusing on the monster holding you down, his lavender eyes now cold and calculating. "Please," you whispered, the word barely a breath. "Don't do this." But it was too late; he was in too deep, too lost in his own sick fantasy to care about your pleas.

With a chuckle, Rindou leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear. "You're so cute when you beg," he said, his voice a sinister purr that sent a shiver down your spine. He began to thrust harder, the friction inside you growing almost unbearable. You couldn't help but whimper, the mix of pain and pleasure making it impossible to think straight. The camera's red light blinked, a silent witness to your degradation.

You tried to push away the image of the camera, to focus on anything else, but it was like trying to ignore a blaring siren. Every time you closed your eyes, the little black dot was burned into the back of your eyelids. The thought of his hands on you, touching you, recording you, made your stomach twist in disgust. But the drug held you in its tight grip, forcing you to endure, to enjoy even as you wanted to scream for it to stop.

Somehow, you managed to ride through the storm of emotions and sensations, your body moving almost on its own accord. And then, just as the crescendo was reaching its peak, you heard the sound of the front door opening. "Fuck, parents are home," you thought, your heart leaping into your throat. You froze, your body stiffening with fear.

Rindou's thrusts didn't miss a beat, though his eyes flicked to the doorway, a hint of panic flashing across his face. But then, as the sound of their muffled voices grew louder, something in his expression changed. It was a mix of relief and excitement, a twisted thrill at the near miss. He leaned in closer, his voice a heated whisper. "Let's make it quick, little girl," he urged, his movements growing more fr

antic.

You could feel the panic rising in your chest, the fear that your parents would walk in at any moment and find you like this, impaled on the monster's cock. The thought made your pussy clench around him, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. But you couldn't stop, couldn't pull away, the drug had you in its thrall.

Rindou's eyes darted to the door, the smile on his face fading to something more sinister. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispered, "You're going to come for me, little girl. Right now. And you're going to be so loud, they're going to wonder what's happening in here." His voice was a command, and despite everything, your body responded. You felt yourself climbing towards that peak, the pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

The footsteps grew louder, their conversation punctuated by the occasional laugh. You tried to hold back the moan that was building in your throat, but it was no use. As your parents' voices grew closer, Rindou's grip tightened, his thrusts more urgent. "Come for me," he murmured, his breath hot on your neck. And you did. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing in his arms, your nails digging into his back. You screamed, the sound muffled by his hand clamped over your mouth.

He followed quickly after, his cock pulsing deep inside you, filling you with his warmth. He held you there for a moment, his breathing ragged, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, with a sigh of satisfaction, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and violated.

Days passed, and Rindou remained cold, his usual playfulness replaced by a tension that made you feel like you were walking on eggshells. The sight of the camera, now hidden away, was a constant reminder of what he had done to you, and you couldn't shake the fear that he might do it again. The drugs had worn off, but the memory of that morning remained, etched into your mind like a nightmare you couldn't wake from.

You avoided him as much as possible, hiding in your room, but every time you saw his lavender eyes peeking around the corner, you felt a chill run down your spine. He hadn't touched you since that day, but you could feel his gaze on you, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. It was like living with a cobra, always coiled and ready to strike.

Days turned into weeks, and the cold shoulder from Rindou was almost a relief compared to the horror of that morning. You tried to convince yourself that it was over, that he had gotten what he wanted and would leave you alone. But the way he would sometimes stroke the spot on the couch where he had taken you, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long, told you differently. It was a game of cat and mouse, and you were the trapped prey.

[cliophilyra]

2024 Fic Round Up

Tagged by @loucifersbitch - thank you so much!! 🩷

This year I wrote 20 fics and a total of 36,619 words (I haven't included the 2x Destiel ones here as there's enough to list already!)

JULY

Like A Circus Wheel | saltommy | E | 1432 wds.

"He's insinuating that you're gay." Tommy looks over at Sal’s smart-ass smirk and for a second he’s frozen. Sal’s expression doesn’t change but something in his eyes feels like a challenge.

Show You Off | Bucktommy | E | 2083 wds

“Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?” he murmurs. “Otherwise we’re gonna be giving the neighbours a show.” Buck’s mouth is suddenly bone-dry. Memories of a mis-spent exhibitionist youth suddenly flood back and his breath shallows, mouth falling open a little, cock twitching as he swallows hard. Tommy pulls back and looks him in the eye, eyebrow raised. “Oh. You like that idea baby?”

Keys to Fit Our Locks | saltommy | T | 1133 wds.

Tommy comes home to something surprising. Just some soft, silly, sort-of-established Saltommy.

AUG

Every Little Sacrifice | saltommy | E | 3335 wds

Tommy jumps down from the engine the moment it stops, already heading to the gear racks as the rest of the team clamber out behind him, the stench of melted plastic and hot metal surrounding them. He needs to get away from the smell, it’s choking him, filling his throat. He coughs, trying to clear out the memory. Sal flashes him his most charming grin, blue eyes bright in his soot-streaked face, and claps him on the shoulder as he passes. Tommy doesn’t stop and doesn’t meet his confused gaze, his jaw muscles tick as he bites back the fury thrumming through his veins. He strips off his turnouts in record time and heads up the stairs without a backward glance.

Honey I'm Home | bucktommy | T | 762 wds

“Hey honey I’m home,” Buck murmurs to himself, half-falling through the door into the dark entrance hall of Tommy’s house. The whole day has been a seemingly endless stream of small, silly calls, each bell draining more and more of his energy, leaving him a shell of the man he was when he left that morning. It had been a great morning too. Two orgasms before he’d even had his coffee had seemed like a pretty promising start to the day and then he’d spent most of his shift on a constant simmer, half hard in his turnouts because his boyfriend, who was having the opposite sort of day at work, decided it would be a good idea to send him shirtless selfies taken in the Harbor locker room that would have been rejected from the firefighter calendar for being too pornographic.

Calendar Boy | bucktommy | E | 2505 wds

“What’s up baby?” Tommy asks, concerned, walking over to kiss the side of his head. “It’s the most insufferable time of the year,” Hen mutters, not looking up. Tommy looks down at the photos covering the table and stops short, blinking in surprise. Oh. “It’s the LAFD calendar,” Evan says, as if that explains everything, which, in a way Tommy supposes it does. Tommy’s eyes widen as he takes in the piles of pictures of semi-- and, in some cases, more than semi-- naked Evan that are spread across it. He swallows awkwardly, his tongue all of a sudden seeming too big for his mouth, and manages an only-slightly-strangled, “Oh?”

Solace | bucktommy | T | 615 wds

Buck comes home to Tommy after a very bad day.

SEPT

Nicknames | saltommy | M | 529 wds

A few nicknames, endearments and insults from Sal and Tommy’s relationship.

Desk Defying | saltommy | E | 2478 wds

Sal and Tommy decide to take out their frustrations on top of Gerrard's desk.

Riding Up Front | bucktommy | E | 5511 wds

Buck is outside in the yard, blasting the engine with the high pressure hose and entertaining murderous fantasies of turning the hose on Gerrard and blowing him through a fucking wall. The bastard is on the warpath today as usual, finding a seemingly endless list of pointless tasks for each of them. When Tommy arrives unexpectedly it dawns on Buck that the engine is conveniently just out of sight, pulled around the side of the firehouse and the rest of the crew are occupied and a terrible, brilliant and honestly somewhat familiar plan forms in his mind.

When you're tastin what he's drinkin (are you thinkin bout me?)

bucktommy w/ past saltommy | M | 1893 wds

Sal runs into Tommy with Buck at a bar and drags up old memories.

OCT

If It Comes Back | saltommy | E | 3773 wds

Tommy & Sal reconnect at a wedding.

NOV

A Quiet Night In | bucktommy | T | 1190 wds

Just some fluff & cuddles - post 8x6 comfort

DEC

Flashover | bucktommy | G | 2724 wds

When his phone rang this evening he was on the floor in front of his couch, in the middle of another fifty push-ups, TV on in the background playing a show that he couldn't have named or described if someone put a gun to his head. He didn't pick it up, didn't even glance at it, just let it vibrate its way across the table and fall on the floor. The third time it rang he finally picked it up, annoyed, and glanced at the caller ID. Sal Deluca. Jesus Christ, talk about a blast from the past. He'd answered it without even thinking. "Sal?" "Kinard. Open your door. It's pissing rain out here."

You Should Probably Leave | saltommy | E | 2347 wds

“Doesn’t look like it’s coming back on anytime soon.” Tommy says, looking out of the window at the dark street. “It’s the whole block at least.” He turns back to Sal who is spread out on his couch, beer bottle in one hand, one foot on the floor. “Ah shit, guess I’ll just have to stay here then huh?” Sal smirks, eyebrow raised as he stretches his arms above his head so his t-shirt rides up, exposing the trail of dark hair that disappears under his waistband. Behind him on the table a candle lantern flickers, deepening the shadows and planes of his features, casting crawling shapes over the walls. Tommy's throat is dry, he swallows hard. He already knows how the rest of this night goes. How it always goes.

Taken | saltommy | M | 884 wds

Jack shakes his hand, holding it just a fraction too long, smiling up at him almost shyly. "Hi Tommy. Sooo, I know this is kind of a cliche but…um…would you maybe like to get a drink sometime? With-with me?" "Kinard! Get your ass back on the truck!" Sal's voice snaps out. Tommy tries not to laugh for Jack's sake. "Jack, you seem great but I—" Jack sighs. "Figures. You're clearly way too hot to be available. Ah well I had to try, right?" "Kinard!"

10 Weddings and No Funerals | saltommy | T (will go up) | WIP

In order to survive a summer of wedding fever, longtime friends, Tommy and Sal, agree to be each other's plus one at every wedding they've been invited to. AU based on Plus One (2019).

Kisses | saltommy | G | series WIP

Some replies to the kisses prompt meme on Tumblr. Currently all saltommy - may add some bucktommy later. Rating may change.

Here's to a creative 2025!

Tagging - @rdng1230 @littlepaws9 @bucksbignaturals @fuselsstuff @peppermintquartz @bangpop91 @nine-one-wanton @girlwonder-writes @thecarrott @judymarch15 @racerchix21 @weewookinard @loulou-land and literally anyone else I know or who sees this and wants to do it. My brain is shutting down now lol.

HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL!!

[baileypie-writes]

Platonic story about the reader bringing back Dark Dream after the events of Yes! 5

Idk I couldn’t think of a better request ;-;

A/N ~ Sure! I actually love this idea! Hope you enjoy!

~Revival~

Dark Dream + Former Villain!Reader

~~~🖤~~~🖤~~~🖤~~~

Fandom: Yes! Pretty Cure 5, Yes! Pretty Cure 5 the movie

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Gender neutral, former Nightmare employee

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,213

Synopsis: After reviving Dark Dream, you finally gave her the second chance she was promised. And the first thing she wanted to do was to reunite with Nozomi.

Warnings: Death mentioned(Dark Dream’s), Nuts/Natts featured, Coco mentioned, kind of rushed because I had to stop it from getting too long

~Masterlists~

~Yes! Pretty Cure 5 Masterlist~

~~~🖤~~~🖤~~~🖤~~~

Curiosity can be either a really good, or a really bad thing. It can end in fortune, or it can end in disaster. Many people avoid acting on their curiosity due to the fear of it turning out bad. But you decided to take the risk.

You used to work for the company Nightmare. Because of that, you did a lot of things you’re not proud of. For one, you fought a group of teenage magical girls to try and obtain the Dream Collet. Just the memory of trying to defeat them makes you cringe. But you’re glad you still keep in touch with them. After all, they’re the reason you were able to turn a new leaf.

But even though you’ve left the evil company, you still harbor some magic abilities. And with them, you decided to run a little experiment.

A while ago, the Pretty Cure went to the Mirror Kingdom and had to fight dark versions of themselves. Each one was made from a crystal. Cure Dream had managed to befriend her evil counterpart, Dark Dream. But Dark Dream ended up sacrificing herself for her, shattering the crystal.

You’ve always wondered what would happen if Dark Dream was able to live her second chance. So after a quick trip to the Mirror Kingdom, you came back home with a handful of crystal shards, and a crazy idea.

~~~~

You never would’ve guessed it would have taken this long. Nearly three whole months and 107 attempts later, a very puzzled Cure Dream doppelgänger stood in the exact same spot the shards used to be. You huffed tiredly, convinced that you’d used every ounce of magic left in you. But you still smiled at the fruit of your labor.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” Dark Dream asked, understandably confused. “How am I alive?” She stared down at her hands, moving them to confirm that she was in fact living.

“I’ll gladly answer all of those questions right now.” You chuckled.

You provided a quick, yet informative summary of your experiment. Dark Dream listened intently, her wide eyed expression never faltering. She was still processing being alive once again, and now she had even more to take in. But she knew she couldn’t bear being left without any answers, so she just dealt with the shock.

“And here you are now.” You finished with your explanation. You folded your arms, and exhaled loudly, truly in disbelief about your success.

You allowed the girl a few moments to think and process everything. It was only fair, after all. You prepared yourself for any future questions she may ask, but what she did end up asking was not something you were expecting.

“Where’s Nozomi?”

After taking a moment to get over the unexpected question, you gave your answer. “Well, it’s the afternoon of a weekday. So she’s probably at school. In fact, she should be getting out soon.”

“I want to go see her.” She declared. And by the sound of it, she definitely wasn’t asking. So you figured that if she was gonna go, you’d rather her not go alone.

“Alright. I don’t know where she goes to school, but I do know where she goes after. I’ll take you there. Oh yeah, but you should de-transform first.” You pointed to her outfit. She looked at herself as if she didn’t notice. But she quickly did as you said, reverting back to her normal self. She still looked exactly like Nozomi. But the way she dressed was quite different. She wore a reddish, gothic lolita style outfit, complete with black lipstick.

Not wanting to waste any time, you simply ignored her appearance, and led her out of the house. And with Dark Dream trailing closely behind, you headed straight to Natts’ House.

~~~~

After explaining everything to Natts, he very reluctantly allowed Dark Dream to hang around. Though, he still watched her like a hawk. But knowing his trust issues, that was understandable. You luckily didn’t have to deal with Coco or Milk as well, as they had gone to Palmier Kingdom for business. So the only thing you now needed to do was wait for the Pretty Cure.

After a very awkward ten or so minutes, the door opened with the jingle of a bell. “Natts!” A cheerful voice called out.

“Up here.” He responded from the upstairs lounge.

You heard loud footsteps run up the stairs, then Nozomi finally saw who was there waiting for her. She froze, dropping her school bag, as well as her jaw.

“Whaaaaat?!” She exclaimed very loudly, practically shaking the building.

After locking eyes with her, Dark Dream smiled softly, and stood up. “Hello, Nozomi.”

At that time, the other girls had made it upstairs to see what all the fuss was about. They were just as bewildered to see who was there as their friend was.

Nozomi ran to her, grabbing her hands in hers. “It really is you! But how?”

“I revived her. It took a ton of trial and error, and even more power, but I did it.” You proudly explained.

“But why?” Rin questioned.

You simply shrugged. “I was just curious.” This made her give you a judgey look.

“I can’t believe it! This is so cool!” Nozomi said, bouncing up and down a bit from excitement. “I promised you a second chance, and now you finally have it!” She pulled Dark Dream in for a hug. “We can finally be friends too!”

While Dark Dream was initially taken aback from the embrace, she smiled from Nozomi’s words.

“But what do we even call her? Dark Dream isn’t a normal name.” Rin mentioned.

“Oh, yeah.” Nozomi said.

Everyone thought for a moment. Then Urara came up with something. “Oh! What about ‘Nonomi’? It sounds like ‘Nozomi’!”

Natts scoffed. “Well that’s just-“

“I have no issue with that name.” Dark Dream interrupted before he could voice his opinion.

“Okay! ‘Nonomi’ it is!” Nozomi said happily. “It’s decided!” And to go with her catchphrase, she thrusted her whole arm upwards, pointing into the air.

“This is all cute and everything, but where is she gonna stay?” Rin asked, acting as if she was the only one with common sense.

“She can stay with me. I have the room. I mean, if it’s alright with her.” You said.

“Okay. I have no problem with that.” The newly named Nonomi responded.

“And you can go to school with us!” Nozomi said, clearly ecstatic.

“What’s ’school’?”

“Oh boy…” Rin sighed.

Karen placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine. There are plenty of us to teach her everything she needs to know.”

“Oh! And I have plenty of books I can lend her!” Komachi added.

Natts sighed. “This is all just too much. I think I might close the shop for the day.”

He wasn’t wrong. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Especially for Nonomi. She’d been revived by you, reunited with Nozomi and gained a new home and life all in one day. But she was completely ready for it. Nozomi had offered her friendship and a second chance, but her death prevented her from living it. But all thanks to you, she’s now able to. And she couldn’t be more happy.

~~~🖤~~~🖤~~~🖤~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[surgepricing]

RWBY Final Thoughts: Legacy

Very rarely would I ever consider a fandom on its own worth its own section of a Final Thoughts. ... [Basically,] they behave like a cult.

This is a repost of a post I made February 1st, 2024 on another site. At the time, it was the final post of a deep-dive recap of RWBY and the history of the show, its fandom, and its direction under Rooster Teeth.

I felt this out with some of my peers and the feedback I got in relation to posting in on Tumblr was that, well, why not? It was my main haunt to begin with, and I may as well, since Rooster Teeth is closing its doors. I'm posting this mainly as a shot in the dark just to see how it gets received. Only minor edits have been made; I'm sure there's some stuff in here that would make people mad, but that applies to pretty much anything someone could say about RWBY. Click the read more to get a glance at how my time with RWBY ultimately wrapped up.

Nine years ago today, Monty Oum died of an allergic reaction. Today is a day of mourning for fans of his work, including RWBY. There’s no sense in waiting. Let’s finish this and heal.

The Showrunners

Miles and Kerry often received the brunt of the attention when it came to RWBY. As the writers of the show, they bore responsibility for the largest chunk of why it eventually went into the shitter, and fan anger against them was almost certainly not helped by the damn near idolization heaped on them by fervent stans. They are, undoubtedly, the focal point of RWBY fans’ parasocial relationship with the show.

Of course, despite sharing about the same credits space as his partner in crime, Kerry tended to fly under the radar a lot, with it being Miles who received the brunt of the fandom’s fury with each successive volume. It’s not hard to see why; the character Miles voices has been consistently over-exposed and is in many ways an obvious creator’s pet, with denials as to this fact falling on deaf ears as Jaune’s screentime continued to balloon past its merits, whereas the character Kerry voices could just about wrangle an average of ten seconds of screentime every three years. Certainly Miles has been in trouble with fans more often than Kerry for the shit he’s said and done. The Ruby body pillow and the Tifa Lockhart ‘prostitute’ comments come to mind. Oh, and the slurs, that one too.

But perhaps the reason Miles gets so much more flak than Kerry is that Miles just...acts like an asshole a lot of the time. Even aside from above examples, Miles’ flaws come out in his writing: he’s petty, holds grudges, can’t take criticism, and just overall has way more power over the story than someone of his caliber should. He’s very poor at disguising his real feelings and often lets them bleed through, and when he actually decides to voice them on purpose, things get ugly—refer to that Cameo about Ironwood.

But as tempting as it is to treat Miles as an out-of-control cockwaffle on the rampage and Kerry as his sympathetic ineffectual shadow, the reality is that they’re co-writers, have been for ten years, and anything Miles gets away with doing is as much Kerry’s fault as his. If the Gray Haddock situation has taught us anything, it’s that more people tend to harbor blame than the one individual that makes an easy scapegoat.

Since aside from aforementioned n-word business, Miles and Kerry are almost never connected to moral outrage, this makes it easy for the stans to uphold them, since all they really have to defend them from is accusations that they didn’t honor Monty’s “vision” for the series. This is only easy because the stans are fucking insane, but that’s for later on down the page.

“Vision” is in quotes because that’s how fans treat it, we all know they don’t really care. Miles and Kerry’s vision matters, and we know that much because of Calixyn’s interview where she all but begged to be told that RWBY Volume 5 was as bad as it was because the “good bois” had control of the show ripped from them. Nope, turns out all that racism, homophobia, and plain shitty writing is all on them. But at least they’re nice!

(Miles was 26 when he said the n-word. I’m 26 now when writing this. I think it’s pretty fair to call him an asshole.)

But the truth is that it’s objectively stupid to think that the direction of RWBY hasn’t changed since Monty’s passing, it’s impossible for it not to have. There are more writers on board than before, and it’s been a long time since he was alive to contribute his thoughts. The real question is whether they at least tried, and I don’t think they did.

I mean, Shane Newville never names Miles and Kerry in his letter, but he does state several times that the choices made for the show were not only not what Monty wanted, but “straight up just shitting all over what Monty made”. I find it very difficult to believe that that insinuation, and all of the people caught up in the net it casts, wouldn’t include those two. And like it or not, but the person who is able to compile tons of clips and interviews over the years as some sort of seeming immutable proof that “CRWBY” are good-hearted people determined to preserve Monty’s vision, isn’t really looking at any more evidence than the person who’s come to the conclusion, based on what they’ve seen, that that the opposite is true. And they’re certainly looking at less evidence than the people who actually did work there around Monty, Miles, and Kerry. The facts sometimes boil down to ‘if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and is implicated in the walls of text like a duck, it’s probably a duck’, guys.

Even in the best case scenario in which the work of Monty Oum turns out to have been treated with dignity and respect (and was just really shittily written from the beginning), the fact remains that Miles and Kerry did not put a quality product into the world. I will be very surprised if either of them manages to get a lead writing position ever again, because once the popularity of RWBY fades, so too will the goodwill they’ve somehow amassed among its fans. RWBY, much like Twilight, is inevitably going to taint the people who were in charge of writing it.

But Miles and Kerry are just two dudes. What exactly is going to happen to those fervent fans who hung on their every word and insisted they were the embodiment of everything pure and innocent? What, exactly, is going to happen to the RWBY fandom that once seemed to be unavoidably populous on the internet?

F, N, D, M

We already went over “constructive criticism” and “worldbuilding”, so let’s add another eternally-misused word to our roster. You know, something I’ve occasionally thought about in terms of online spaces is that no one knows what a “comfort show” is. It’s one of those terms that became too popular almost as soon as it was introduced, to the point that it became meaningless, much like “hyperfixation” and “anxiety”. I see people refer to RWBY as their comfort show and I’m just like...how? A comfort show is supposed to be the show that always puts you in a good headspace, a show you rest easy with because you’ve always connected with it because the love was always there. A comfort show is a show that you watch in your down moments to feel better, not a show you think is just the greatest thing ever, the bees’ knees if you will.

A comfort show is not a show you force yourself to like, it is not a show you defend at all costs, and it is not a show you only still cling to because enjoying it once coincided with a time when you felt popular and among friends. Which, increasingly, seems to have been the case for RWBY fans.

RWBY’s Fandom

Very rarely would I ever consider a fandom on its own worth its own section of a Final Thoughts. But I’m doing it now because the RWBY fandom, though now it’s a shadow of its former self, is still a sizable chunk of people and took a lot longer to die than most other fandoms.

The RWBY fandom itself was an especially big and very online fandom, and the show produced an abnormally large amount of big name fans who continued to use their own influence to push its success and keep its momentum going. As I’ve said before, the RWBY fandom is something that Rooster Teeth were able to extract an excessive amount of praise out of for minimal effort; it simply seems to be in RWBY fans’ nature to speculate and theorize and over-analyze and fill in blanks, and to perceive good writing and animation where there is none. But you know how fandom operates—the bigger its size, the more infamous it becomes.

Long since famed for being especially toxic, those who are in the know consider RWBY fans a different breed, really. They create and move narratives at high speed and act quickly to correct any perceived dissent in the ranks, casting out anyone that feels disillusionment with the product and insisting everything is peachy even as their world crumbles around them. To RWBY fans, the “CRWBY” are always separate from the “problematic” aspects of Rooster Teeth (which is basically the whole company) and it doesn’t matter how many of its flaws get highlighted; RWBY and the people that make it are always great, innocent of any harm done and fantastic, and anyone that dislikes them is a villain—even if those people were at one point part of the “CRWBY” themselves. Loyalty is everything. In other words, they behave like a cult.Those acronyms themselves have always bothered me, and I’ve grown a strong distaste for them. Originally they were just a quirk of the show; a format for team names that spawned the name of the show and eventually stopped being relevant altogether. But RWBY fans are simply unable to not use them. It’s not “the fandom” it’s “the FNDM”. They’re not “the RWBY team” or “the RWBY crew”, they’re “CRWBY”. Even people that the fans are actively trying to shame, shun, and harass don’t get to simply be people—they’re “RWDE” and, when that became an actual community of sorts unto itself, was switched to “HTDM”, short for “hatedom”. They remind me distinctly of code words that get formed and passed around in cult movements, identifying terms that quickly provide boxes to put people in and make it easier to sort loyals from disloyals. “Hatedom” itself is another one of those terms that spread and got so prolific it really doesn’t carry any meaning anymore. Real hatedoms are surprisingly rare, guys. Every fandom that becomes big enough for its respective product to become criticized eventually comes to believe it has a ‘hatedom’ because how could someone dislike something I like so much? But a hatedom on its own arises out of very specific circumstances and environments, and causes the spread of hate for a product based on broad foundations that are often unfair to the product and which creates perceptions that spread faster than the work, so that the work is often talked about in mocking reference rather than true dissatisfaction.

RWBY doesn’t have a hatedom guys, it never did. The Last of Us doesn’t have a hatedom. Fairy Tail didn’t have a hatedom. Blackpink doesn’t have a hatedom. Even Marvel doesn’t have a hatedom.

Paris Hilton had a hatedom. Nickelback had a hatedom. Hell, the website Tumblr itself had a hatedom. These were examples of people or products whose reputations spread too quickly and eventually swallowed rational perception of them, with people who have never experienced them or their work dismissing them and the fans who enjoy it wholesale.

Using the term “hatedom” is understandably common because (and in spite of the fact that) it allows for easy miscategorization. A hatedom is not composed of people that were actually exposed to the work, found it lacking, and expressed that. A hatedom does not occur in the wake of a product that was so bad it pissed off its fans and caused them to walk. People don’t hate Metroid: Other M because they can’t stand the sight of a woman being vulnerable and don’t understand challenging drama, they hate it because it was poorly written, badly designed, and tarnished a long-running and highly cherished gaming heroine’s reputation. People didn’t hate Fifty Shades of Grey because of some bias against women expressing their sexual freedom, they hated it because it was a wildly misogynistic and badly-written piece of dreck. People didn’t hate The Last of Us Part II because of homophobia and transphobia, they hated it because it was a misery fest with a tired moral theme that posited itself far more deep and compelling than it really was. And just because people with the above disingenuous views also hated these things does not discount the fact that the works got the reputations they did because they were getting back the exact amount of love and respect that was put into them.

Similarly, RWBY doesn’t have a hatedom. It does, in fact, have an ex-fandom. Those are also things you don’t see very often, but when you do, they almost always follow the same pattern, don’t they? A work which got wildly popular very quickly, took really deep nosedives afterward, and became disowned by the people that had formerly propped it up.

But that’s a discussion for later. What exactly makes RWBY’s fandom so toxic and cult-like, and why and how did it get that way? I think it’s a combination of several key factors that were baked in and collided badly.

The first was ease of access. RWBY was sold extremely well early on, and shared enough similarities with both anime and video games that it attracted many curious people from those communities. Combine that with vibrant colors, an attractive visual aesthetic, an air of badassery, and good music, and it gained a lot of loyal fans quickly—fans of anime and video games, specifically, being fans that tend to get more attached than to other mediums and are known for spending a lot on merchandise. These, in turn, morphed into nostalgic elements ripe for misremembering—people often have difficulty acknowledging that something they once liked isn’t good anymore even on its own, and I think RWBY fans in particular put way too much energy into the show to be able to admit that all the time they spent defending it (and harassing people who criticized it) was for nothing.

That skyhigh rocket to fame early on, of course, was attached to the reputation of Monty Oum, and once he died, he quickly became a martyr, which galvanized the loyalty of the show’s most toxic fans even further. To this day, talking about Monty at all, even for the right reasons, is seen as disrespectful or distasteful unless you’re trying to use him to prop up Rooster Teeth, a double standard I’ve unfortunately run into even in seeming safe spaces. I think if we’re comparing RWBY fandom to a cult, then Monty Oum and his memory can be compared to a central mythologized figure, the center around which are formed all of the pretty lies the members of the cult will tell you. Monty’s name is irreplaceably tied to RWBY, and as such, in order to defend Monty, its fans have to defend RWBY...and you can see where this leads. Attempting to talk about the mistreatment Monty and his family went through at Rooster Teeth is seen as using his name as a weapon—nevermind the fact that Rooster Teeth and their fans regularly use his name as a shield.

Of course, what this really reveals is that many such people don’t care about Monty, who he was, or who he went through, but rather his name alone. In fact, I’ve straight up seen RWBY stans say that people shouldn’t “take Monty’s name in vain”, as if Monty were in fact some sacred religious figure. It’s both bizarre and harmful.

A third factor was popularity. For a lot of the same reasons as, say, Supernatural, the perception of RWBY skews much more broadly between fan and ex-fan than that of the typical over-hyped show. The truth of the matter is that when a show gets popular, or really any work gets popular, enjoying it becomes a cliquey sort of thing. People that enjoyed being into something well-respected and widely known and basically the hottest trend are far more prone to become overly attached, put too much of themselves into it, and remain unequipped to deal with the fact of that trend’s eventual passing, especially if it’s a fall into disgrace rather than a quiet entrance into history. You can still find certain especially toxic big names from the RWBY fandom active and posting, pretending not to notice that their audience has become smaller and smaller over the years. Let’s face facts here, a lot of people that enjoy being part of the “in” crowd never manage to figure out how to accept losses and will do anything to try and regain lost popularity, or fool themselves into thinking they’re still on top of the world.

But we can reason and explain all day. Another truth of the matter is that it shouldn’t be other people’s problem that fans can’t accept reality and adjust, and that the RWBY fandom quite honestly deserves its reputation as abysmally toxic. The way terminal fans of the show have treated anyone who dissents, most prominently Shane Newville and other ex-employees, let alone other ex-fans of the show, is quite frankly disgusting. RWBY stans are difficult to look at in all of their bewildering, teeth-gnashing toxicity and forgive...so I’m not going to. People that still insist there’s nothing wrong with this show or the company making it are, as far as I’m concerned, beyond help, and are part of the problem. Many an ex-employee certainly thinks so.

In a lot of ways, you could call the fandom one of the driving forces of the show’s failure, mostly because they had an abnormally large amount of influence over the show. Pleasing the fans has always been a major goal of the RWBY team (unless you like characters Miles Luna doesn’t, I guess), but it’s almost disturbing how the Rooster Teeth strategy has been to lead them along and bat their eyelashes at every turn and how the fandom laps it up.

Of course, Rooster Teeth feeds the parasocial engine by engaging with the fans as equals, and I was given a disturbing reminder of how many of the people who worked on the show—the ones who aren’t pissed and digging themselves out of trauma ditches—behave exactly as the fans do, tweeting twenty times a day about their favorite ships and memes. By creating the perception that RWBY’s team is just like the RWBY fanbase and wants the same things they want, they tap that line of excess energy that’s kept this fandom going so long despite how far it’s fallen. It’s that “hey! my friend said my ship is going to be canon and he works on the show” feeling.

Of course, a probable reason as to why so many employees who worked on RWBY behave the way RWBY fans do is because a lot of them started out that way. As in, student hires. This has long been an open secret of Rooster Teeth’s M.O. for a while now, hiring people who look up to them and engage heavily with their content. Many an ex-animator has lambasted this tactic because it’s insidious, and purposely designed to make the incoming staff feel honored and indebted and excited so they won’t notice how they’re being fucked over. Arryn Troche, who made the ‘gays greenlighting volume 10’ tweet, rings up as a particularly eerie example considering they have the same rather-uncommon and unconventionally-spelled name as the voice actor for a ship they’re obviously very attached to. A quick search reveals them to have been a longtime fan and cosplayer for the show before being signed on as a junior animator.

And it is the fandom who ultimately makes the legacy for any given work or body of work. So what is RWBY ultimately going to be remembered for?

Legacy

I thought about it for a little while and found five things that are most likely to be associated with RWBY in the public’s memory after its death. The first should come as no surprise to anyone.

Bumbleby

The only part of RWBY that will likely be carried on by fans who stuck with it until the end is, of course, the only part of it that mattered, to many of them. You’ll know from my earlier recaps that shipping was always a big deal in fandom, but due to key choices (or if you prefer, mistakes) made during Volumes 2 and 3, one ship grew larger and more promoted in fandom circles than any others.

This is a combination of the unique features of the RWBY fandom and their one-track mind. The fans are well-known, as I said, to fill in the blanks in a pattern that best suits their narratives, and this works out with Rooster Teeth because it means that any sudden changes in direction they make will always be excused and praised rather than critically examined. Unsurprisingly, Bumbleby’s fandom, now that their victory has been cemented, have doubled down on their narrative that this was the intended goal from the beginning, despite it being plainly obvious that early RWBY was angling for Sun Wukong as the love interest and threw the occasional bones to Blake/Yang shippers to try and play nice.

This used to be one part of the fandom, of course, but as the show continually bombed with viewers and made more and more decisions that pushed them away, all competitors were slowly filtered out as their fans left, until Bumbleby shippers were the fandom. It’s no coincidence that Blake and Yang suddenly started acting unusually touchy and sentimental in Volume Six, following on the heels of a volume of RWBY so wildly unpopular that it woke up the company execs and forced them to acknowledge that the biggest part of their fanbase was only going to remain loyal in exchange for one thing: their ship.

The sad thing is that you can tell Rooster Teeth wanted to explore other options. Volume Five features a rather sudden shift into Yang and Weiss interactions in what I remain positive to this day was an attempt to sway shippers into a potential second choice while Black Sun was still in the oven, and this really represented one of the major errors of Rooster Teeth, in that they failed to understand the audience they were trying so hard to please.

Bumbleby became what I call a “Big Red Button” ship, and it is only the second of its kind that I’ve seen. The first? Destiel.

Yes, there’s a reason I kept comparing RWBY to Supernatural whenever Blake and Yang’s relationship came up. I admit I wasn’t a part of the Supernatural craze in its heyday and have never really enjoyed the show, but I’ve watched enough of it to connect the dots from what cultural osmosis I had to the eventual downfall we saw in November of 2020.

Both Bumbleby and Destiel were held up as the gay ship that would change everything, the biggest ship in the fandom and the one that would’ve been a major push for LGBT visibility, at least during their heydays. The problem was that its fans were not really that interested in LGBT visibility and were simply obsessed with the ship itself, applying it value as a win for LGBT audiences purely to bolster its perceived importance. Fans like this were not ever going to accept any alternatives regardless of the sexual orientations or gender conventions involved. Hence, the metaphor that is “the big red button”. You have a big red button that says “canon gay ship but not the ship you want” and ask the fans you’re trying to court whether they’d press it or not. Whatever they might say out loud, you know none of them is pressing that fucking button, ever.

Both of these Big Red Button ships became what they were due to showrunners being forced into courting an audience they really didn’t care for, and how could you blame them when both were infamously very, very over-active and annoying in general. Just like with RWBY’s well-intentioned but misguided Freezerburn phase in Volume 5, Supernatural also tried to gently shut down fans who then managed to obliviously ignore any and all hints that their ship was not meant to be endgame, and I can say that because “he’s like a brother to me” in any fandom but Supernatural would’ve been a tactical nuclear strike that sent the shippers packing. Once it failed, the gay bait came out in full force. It’s well known by now that, contrary to what one would imagine, the CW was not pulling a profit off of Supernatural’s minor mainstream success pushed by a cult following, so it’s no wonder they eventually resorted to desperately baiting the one audience that was going to stick it out no matter what, provided they had the right relationship dangled in front of them. RWBY went through the same thing.

The main problem with these two ships is that for all its diehards insisted that it was all about the gay representation, their respective shows teased and baited for so long that the world outside the little bubble these shippers lived in had moved on by the time they came to fruition. Gay visibility in media these days, at least western media, is easily available, to the extent that sometimes people believe homophobia is totally over when it really, really isn’t. If you’re looking for gay representation, you can find it plenty of places, and the first place you look probably isn’t going to be Supernatural or RWBY. So the huge wave of viewers that these shippers expected upon their victories was never going to occur, which might could’ve been avoided if the writers had simply grown a pair and made moves towards canon much sooner than before the shows were on their last legs and due to be scrapped.

Or, you know, just been honest. Diversions and alternatives were never going to work. The only thing that these shippers were ever going to understand was a hard no, a “sorry, this ship isn’t going to happen”. But the execs in charge of these shows were never willing to take a hit like that, so instead they dug their own grave.

And where does that leave the shippers, those people who devoted their whole lives to these fictional characters, only to find the show that bore them into the universe dead in a ditch? Well, nowhere good. Much like Supernatural, RWBY is heavily associated with its booming period, the heavily online portion of these shippers’ lives in the early and mid-2010s when it was all the rage, and yet in modern day, it’s seen as a bad neighborhood to hang in, an abandoned mansion at the corner of the street where awful things happened. These shippers don’t have many friends except each other.

Just like RWBY, Supernatural also exists primarily as an ex-fandom now. Much of its former fanbase remember the good days fondly but make no secret that they stopped following it once the writing tanked, and this left the shippers without many allies to associate with since so many of them had been pissed off with the way their shows ultimately became the Destiel Show and the Bumbleby Show, respectively. Contrary to an unfortunately popular idea, these shows did have actual LGBT fanbases, only a lot of their LGBT fans were not on kool-aid and avoided being sucked into a trap called “if you don’t ship this, you’re homophobic”.

You will find that the Bumbleby fandom are often looked on with disdain by quite a number of viewers of RWBY who have accused them of speaking over minorities, sexual and otherwise. Many fans have noted that, aside from Blake’s bisexuality being a seemingly late addition (Arryn Zech is noted to have cast her as straight when discussing Ilia Amitola’s ill-fated crush on her as late as 2019), Blake was very swiftly removed from all faunus characters who held romantic connotations in favor of Yang, implicitly saying that Blake was better committing to a white human woman than to an ethnic faunus male. There are obvious reasons why this left a bad taste in peoples’ mouths. Not to mention, other LGBT fans that invested in the show were not exactly welcomed with open arms.

Fair Game, or as I tend to call it, Qrowver? Qrow x Clover? Yeah, that was huge in Volume 7’s airing days. It very much experienced a rapid ballooning in fans and fandom love...but we all know how that ended. Many a fan who felt heartbroken and, importantly, betrayed by Clover’s sudden and rather pointless death turned on RWBY and Rooster Teeth and accused them of gaybaiting, which is of course exactly what happened. They received no sympathy from Bumbleby shippers—because of course they wouldn’t. If Rooster Teeth would gaybait with Qrow, a popular male character, that would mean they could potentially be gaybaiting with Blake and Yang, too. That was unacceptable, and so ironically the part of the fandom that had always crowed about the importance of extending a hand to LGBT viewers turned on LGBT viewers, valiantly defending Rooster Teeth as they always had.

And because Bumbleby fans had no room in their hearts for anything about RWBY except Bumbleby, and were hostile to anyone who didn’t ship it, they ended up being their own best friends and everyone else’s bad memories. When RWBY has faded from the public’s memory and is no longer a source of active income at all (so, basically right now), one of the only relics you’ll find of this show will be the two women making out in all the fanart you’ll find on the occasional Tumblr blog.

The Bigotry

You could call this section “the Racism” since that’s the biggest part of it, but we’d be remiss in neglecting the harm done to other minorities as well. We’ll get to them in a minute, but race is the thing that’s going to pop to mind when we talk about one of the other things RWBY left behind in the common memory.

One of the longest-running subplots that RWBY ever went through with was the racism subplot. Its basis is one of the things that so severely dates RWBY: creating an in-universe stand-in for people of color through the existence of people with animal traits was something you would absolutely not get away with after 2020, and even by 2016 was something liable to be seen as tacky. Nonetheless, RWBY openly used the faunus as stand-ins for black Americans and the struggles they faced in a white world.

Except that the company, based in Texas and headed largely by white staff, did not feel the importance of that. What slowly started out as a main character’s attempt to redeem an organization she felt had been driven too far and was no longer her home was slowly transformed into a means by which some incredibly racist people could spout off about what they felt were the real issues to be talked about, which were the condemnation they felt was deserved by activists that turned to violence, labeled, a little too quickly, as terrorists.

The 2010s saw a shift in social values, and much as with gay audiences and gay characters, black audiences and black characters—as well as other racial minorities—were experiencing something of a renaissance, with efforts to put the voices of these people into the public’s feeds. It wasn’t just George Floyd in 2020—the unexpected and frankly traumatic reign of Donald Trump as president of the United States galvanized the divide in America and social awareness became a bigger thing than ever, and since Trump was a flagrantly racist person with racist beliefs who enacted racist policies and was uplifted by racist Americans, people pushed back as they felt their lives and existences being threatened by a racist establishment...an establishment which Rooster Teeth came down on the side of very firmly.

No quarter is given to the fictional stand-ins. Sienna Khan’s policies are never examined in-depth, and the only close looks we get at the sorts of activism the White Fang does are at Adam, who is obviously condemned by the narrative and made into everything but a mustache-twirler, with delusional and frankly baffling beliefs of faunus superiority spelled out at length. No matter what concessions Rooster Teeth might’ve tried to make with Sienna’s beliefs before they stuck a sword in her, the fact of the matter is that their beliefs came through in the voices of Ghira and Blake, who made it very clear that the individual motives and experiences of people like Ilia, Corsac, Fennec, Yuma, and the rest simply don’t matter in the face of what they’d been driven to do by them. The whole ‘blacks can be racist’ tone of the final scenes involved in this subplot are both miles removed from the more cautious and neutral tone of early RWBY, and also just a very alarming red flag overall.

I went over this in my Volume 5 Final Thoughts: the shoddiness of the volume does not lie solely with the animation department. Miles and Kerry are known to have had generally sole control of the show up until Volume 7—but we also know that they didn’t have to, if they were writing anything company execs felt wasn’t to their tastes. The sudden twisting of Adam into a homicidal incel ex-boyfriend, along with his mutation into a faunus supremacist, when he was the face of the faunus movement as a whole, along with Sun’s blatant ill will towards the White Fang when he’d previously been willing to give them a chance on Blake’s word, all imply that Miles and Kerry endorsed the worst possible interpretations of racial activists and felt free to condemn them and place responsibility onto the faunus—and by extension, the real-life minorities they represented—to take a stand against the bad seeds within their causes, and the fact no one stopped them from airing this implies the higher-ups felt the same way.

People didn’t just leave RWBY after Volume 5 because of some really badly animated fights—they left because they’d felt too much of the authors’ racism coming through in the narrative and couldn’t comfortably continue watching. Every member of the faunus that had “bad” views was either killed (Adam, Sienna, Fennec), arrested (Corsac, Yuma), or “redeemed” by choosing to fight the first two (Ilia). All of these combined factors, with no room for charitable interpretations…not a good look.

And once Adam was defeated in Volume 5, and the White Fang reformed, that was the last anyone saw of that subplot, which had taken five years to wrap up and somehow still ended too early. Miles and Kerry had washed their hands of it, and references to Blake’s place in society were sparing from then on. This subplot’s inescapable presence throughout the show, combined with how it was dropped out of existence, left no room for redemption, either. No one was going back and saying “maybe this looks really, really bad”.

And so, that’s what a lot of people carried with them as their final and most relevant memories of RWBY: it’s astounding levels of racism. This is a bitter subject for many an ex-RWBY fan, many of whom aren’t white and, even among those that are, it’s simply inexcusable. Meet someone on social media who talks about RWBY at all, and isn’t one of the Bumbleby stans we’ve already discussed? You will find some mention or other of RWBY’s racist elements somewhere within their sphere. And so, that becomes a part of RWBY’s legacy, as a feature of the show that was simply too big to ignore and too poorly-handled to forgive. People don’t get over this shit, man.

This is of course not to mention the well deserved shitty reputation RWBY has for its other bigoted elements, as well. Bumbleby, as we’ve discussed, encompassed pretty much every RWBY stan left standing by 2020, but that left quite a few ex-fans that were fed up with the company’s obvious ploys when it came to sexuality and gender. Remember when I talked about Qrowver up above? Its ballooning and immediate fall from grace was a much-condensed version of RWBY as a whole, and pretty much featured as Rooster Teeth blowing their last remaining patience from LGBT fans to smithereens. The fact of the matter is that when you get down to it, every RWBY volume after Volume 4 was not a good time to be a minority. If you were gay, the show seemed to either ignore or despise you—between the background gays that warranted mockery, the mixed reception Ilia generated, and the outrage that finally boiled over when Clover bit it, part of RWBY’s legacy is how utterly unpleasant it has been for LGBT fans who expected and deserved better.

And so despite entering the scene in 2013 as a supposedly progressive show all for being led by four women, the show died known as a low-effort half-baked cringefest whose politics were always on display and always several years behind the trend.

The Good Days

Of course, another major part of RWBY’s legacy is the early days when everyone actually liked it. This is, again, something the show creators brought on themselves and something fans assisted with. I did mention the nostalgia for the Good Ol’ Days as a significant part of the RWBY fandom’s more cult-like elements, after all. The fact of the matter is, on some level, everyone knows that RWBY has spent several years going downhill. The ex-fans lament this fact, and the diehard stans insist that it’s all just as good as it used to be, primarily by doing what they do quite a lot, and linking completely coincidental elements back to things characters said or did in previous volumes as some sort of evidence that this has been the plan all along.

I’ve run polls on this matter before; even though I’ve recapped Volumes 1-3 thoroughly and shone lights on some pretty significant flaws, you ask anyone what they think the best volume of RWBY was and they’re gonna tell you Volume 3. Yes, even with all of the stalking incel Adam and the deaths of Penny and Pyrrha. It’s the last time RWBY felt cohesive and even though some obvious derailing was in effect, and Shane Newville has openly said that the behind-the-scenes matters were pretty ugly, it’s still the golden child. Shane’s only one person, and it’d be a while before RWBY scandals would become consistent and begin to overshadow the show as a whole.

The RWBY team themselves have certainly nurtured that very much on purpose. That tactic started with them, of course. Many elements that were either unpopular or predicted to ruffle feathers were stated to have originated in earlier volumes, even in situations where this wouldn’t have made sense or where it’s an obvious lie—such as Maria Calavera. They know full well their seasons post-Volume 3 were unpopular and receiving blowback, and tried to minimize it by linking them to more well-respected seasons. Suffice to say that this simply didn’t work. But it does make people remember those earlier volumes. Because so many ex-fans lost their energy for RWBY after its most active period, much of the hype from the hype era is all that you’ll see when you encounter one. Nostalgia wins out in the end, and at least RWBY can say that, as a show, it had enough of a headstart to leave an impression that lasted in a positive way. Although that’s only one side of the coin...

The Scandals

Let’s face facts here, the biggest part of RWBY’s legacy, period, is that it fucking died. It didn’t die instantly, but rather took hit after hit, blow after blow, and slowly had its image tarnished alongside that of the company, which failed to contain repeated scandals as ex-employee after ex-employee after ex-employee spoke out about the abysmal ways they’d been treated.

RWBY is Rooster Teeth’s biggest IP by far and, really, their only one worth talking about. Every other show was either eclipsed by it or unofficially canceled after bad reception. So when Rooster Teeth suffered the consequences of their actions, so did RWBY. It really can’t be overstated how the last few years of RWBY’s existence have been absolutely bombarded by a barrage of terrible Glassdoor reviews and bombshell exposure letters. Fans managed to stay strong through the first few rumblings of ill will, but after Volume 5 shook the fandom loose, discontent entered enough of the fandom sphere to be normalized, and once that happened, it was all downhill. Once people were actually allowed to talk about not liking Rooster Teeth’s content, they sure as hell weren’t going to be dissuaded from talking about not liking Rooster Teeth as a company or its practices.

Separating the art from the artist is a very difficult thing to do and only really appropriate in certain situations. Don’t fall for any kool-aid, guys, it doesn’t make you more mature or ‘above all the drama’ to actively ignore the damage done to real people in the process of getting fictional content out into the world.

If you’re still able to enjoy the Harry Potter books and look back on the good times they gave you in fondness, then fine. If you actually purchased and played the Hogwarts Legacy game programmed by antisemites and which puts money in the pocket of the transphobic owner of the franchise, then yeah, people will be right to give you shit for it. There’s a difference between quietly enjoying a product in a manner that doesn’t hurt anybody, and actively ignoring the people hurt to make that product while feigning concern. The gap in the fandom widened as the repeated leaks and scandals continuously ate away at the protective bubble around Rooster Teeth and it became clear that whatever fans might bleat, Rooster Teeth wasn’t going to ‘learn their lesson and do better’. The habitual cycle of using whatever recent scandal had occurred to cast disappointment and anger on a particular figure and uplift the rest of “CRWBY” (see also: the Gray Haddock issue) gave diminishing returns as the bombs kept dropping. This is part of why RWBY has such an ex-fandom, because if they aren’t enjoying the product and people were hurt to make it, why stay?

Crunching employees so hard they struggle to sleep and suffer debilitating health issues? Writing the n-word on a white board knowing a black employee will see it? Goading someone into trying to kill themselves? Calling an LGBT employee a slur and then making up a public-friendly nickname in place of that slur just to get away with continuing to call her that? Laying off people without warning or a means of letting them stay afloat until another job is found? Not paying or crediting employees and cultivating an environment where those in charge do what they want and those in the public eye reap all the benefit while those without a consistent spotlight get treated like dirt?

Just some of the things I thought up off the top of my head. There’s plenty more in the details. And you can’t blame Fullscreen, you can’t blame Warner, you can’t just write it off as something that happens at animation studios, because it isn’t. Yeah, the work environment in general for animation studios in America is lacking because, ya know, late-stage capitalism hellscape, but that’s dismissive of the point. Rooster Teeth are a bad company and hurt their employees and lie when called on it. It’s impossible to separate RWBY from Rooster Teeth (despite stubborn stans’ best attempts, which themselves have been called out by these same ex-employees) and because of that, RWBY’s legacy is one of corporate abuse and utterly vile behavior towards people that just wanted to make something cool.

People have refused to associate with the show over these things and honestly, they’re right to. RWBY’s ultimate legacy, if we’re honest, is the show that became a shadow of its former self, still trying to dazzle with reminders of its former glory and promises of gay relationships, all while trying to squeeze money out of both the employees who made it and the fans who upheld it. It’s the show that cost hundreds of people their physical and mental health and didn’t even have anything to show for it at the end of the day. It will live on in history as the most bitter of pills to swallow, that something you once liked and wanted to succeed can and will be ruthlessly twisted for profit margins and might actively hate you on the side. And speaking of…

Monty Oum

The biggest travesty of RWBY’s legacy is that Monty Oum is ultimately only the smallest part of it. He’s there, but barely—he’s a name in the credits that quite frankly is only there to keep up the facade of loyalty, when the show had stopped being Monty’s show before he even died and by now can be safely said to resemble nothing he would’ve made.

It’s a shame that for all that Monty was held up as a genius of his craft and a genuinely good man who inspired so many people, all he’s going to be remembered for is...this. A show people only attach his name to in an effort to insist it’s actually worth sticking by. Yes, Monty did other things, had other works, but none of them ever achieved even a fraction of the fame and respect that RWBY had from its first baby steps in 2013.

Maybe this could’ve been avoided if the real carriers of Monty’s legacy—Sheena, his wife, and Shane, his pupil—hadn’t been cast off as they had.

Shane seems to have found a new life and is working with Dillon Gu on animation, but I think we’ve all noticed his name hasn’t gone mainstream yet. I’ve tried to get in touch with him; from what I’ve gleaned, I frankly just advise leaving him alone. He wants to move on and I don’t think the RWBY fandom, which was so awful to him for telling the truth, is ever going to be a place he can feel welcome.

Sheena has mostly been quiet and done her own thing, cosplaying and watching anime and hopefully enjoying herself, although I notice posts on her Twitter feed from last year calling for a New Deal in the animation sector and castigating corporate abuses.

She also plays Hades, a much better product than RWBY with more love put into it and much better LGBT representation, which means her taste is excellent. She has a site now that you can go to, and the about section doesn’t mention Monty, her late husband, at all, for obvious reasons: Sheena doesn’t want to be connected to RWBY. Though, there is something there that’s noteworthy, in the last paragraph:

Still desiring a social element to her career, the animator turned professional cosplayer also has a history in the live stream world. Past broadcasts have included creating costume pieces, playing games with community members and subscribers, RPGs and more. No matter the project, peers or problem, Sheena strives to keep moving forward.

That powerful phrase we all associate with Monty.

It’s a shame that this show had to be Monty’s legacy, and that years off from now, his name isn’t going to mean anything to the public because the project he was passionate about and died making outlived him and his passion. It feels like his legacy was stolen, and his own part in the show’s legacy is held up purely as a pedestal on which the show should rightfully shine.

Every time I think about Monty, I think about how much I don’t want that to be me. For all the years I’ve spent here, with my graphics certifications being wasted since I earned them while I slave away in retail, I wonder if I’m the lucky one. If I were to enter the workforce and do what I loved, would it be worth it in the end? Would what happened to Monty and Sheena and Shane happen to me? Not sure I wanna know.

Snipped here.

[st0rmyskies]

Betrayal, Break, Monstrous and Mask for Sky? I know you had two of these prompts at least once and I know it might get repetetive but Sky is such a sweet boi outwardly and he seems so well-adjusted but, y'know, we all crave a pinch of the dark side. =)

Oh but Sky is SUCH a good ask for these prompts. I am assuming HSH Sky and you can come back and yell at me if I was wrong.

betrayal

Sky is much too sweet to ever even think to betray someone. Well, so long as you don't count that one time in Guard training when he failed to deliver Cawlin's 'secret admirer' letter to its intended destination. Listen, how was he supposed to know someone else would take it out of the trash and post it in the guys' dorm bathroom for all too see? Better luck next time, Cawlin, maybe you should think twice before asking favors of someone when all you've ever been is an annoying little prick.

Sky has not been betrayed by someone, at least not yet. (In the Vampire AU, perhaps, but not in HSH proper.)

break

Sky went through a bit of a mental breakdown when he and Warriors left the Guard to go and tail Champion. There are... multiple reasons why Sky left the Guard at that time, and he took it pretty hard. It was a loss of his ambition (to be a pilot), his loss of his budding relationship with Sun (that turned out not to be true), and this feeling of aimless drifting that just overwhelmed him at the time.

His sleepiness through the first arc of HSH wasn't just comic relief; he was deeply depressed and spent most of that time sleeping his life away. So the entire house has seen Sky at his lowest, whether or not they realized it at the time.

mask

Sky is generally up-front about his feelings and emotions at any given time. Although he can get deadly serious when he needs to, and in those instances he is a force to be reckoned with.

monster

Sky is aware of his own monstrosity, I think. He has a strong moral compass. If it wasn't for meeting Time and seeing the decisive way he handles threats against those he loves, Sky probably wouldn't have stepped in and killed Impa in the climax of The Brave. I'm sure that later on, he'll harbor guilt for that. I'm sure that later on, there will come nightmares. But I think that he accepts it, too, as the price to be paid for the safety of the person he loves most in the world--and faced with the same situation, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

[ask-swansea]

Tell us about your family back home :3

Oh gosh, where to start. I've told you lot plenty about Ethel, won't stop me from telling more!

She's about as sweet as a peach cobbler after a day workin' out in the winter cold. The kind of woman who somehow always knows just what you need, offers her shoulder to cry on, and genuinely can empathize with..anyone. She's just about the loveliest lady around. Well, when she wants to be. She can be as fierce as she is sweet, especially when it comes to the kids- or me, surprisingly. As great as she is at controlling it she's got the temper of a momma bear when someone crosses the people she cares about, and won't hesitate to unleash her internal Russian babushka on you! But if you're kind and respectful, then you'll be welcomed with open arms. She used to love hosting neighborhood events for all of the kids; every year she'd have me dress up as Santa, we'de buy little gifts like stuffed animals, toy cars, and animal figurines, and go door to door visiting any houses with children. She always dressed up as my Misses Claus!

On Easter we'de spend a good two or so HOURS hiding eggs all around the neighborhood park, have the parents bring their kids, and let them have a huge Easter egg hunt. She adored our neighbors; truth be told, everyone loved her too. Once we had a scare; shortly after the twins were born, they found a mass on her uterus. We were terrified waiting for results after the biopsy. Just about every day we'de have neighbors visiting, offering to babysit, bringing us snacks and food. Thank God it ended up being nothing; but, really did open our eyes to just how strongly she managed to pull our little community together. Ethel was like that; people gravitate towards her. Her demeanor, that smile that could clear my brain in seconds and leave me speechless. She was *beautiful*. Inside, and so help me god, DEFINETELY outside. Feel bad she got stuck with a shmuck like me!

Then my kids. The two troublemaking boys, Asher and Ace. They aren't fraternal, thank God; Asher got my (albiet longer and less thinned) blondeish-brown hair and dark eyes, and Ace got his mother's darker brown hair, and pretty green eyes (My dad had green eyes; carried the gene over.) love them to pieces; I swear, even with everythin' else that's happened in life, I've never cried as hard as the day they were born. Holding them in my arms, even screaming their tiny little heads off? Perfect, most love-filled feeling in the world. Even if part of me always wanted a baby girl. They're perfect; even when they cause trouble. Asher is the wiser of the two. Which, helps them get away with more. They love playing pranks on me; Hiding all the sweets, hiding water balloons under my pillow, and once when they were younger, they used the food dye bottles from our kitchen to dye Jaxson BLUE! Nicknamed 'em 'Blues Clues' until the dye finally washed and faded out.

Asher was the orchestrator behind most of these; and, once found out, was proud of that fact. Ace is the free spirit; and I mean that in the BEST of ways. While Asher liked staying home with Ethel and reading or watching her sew and knit, Ace was the one who wanted to go fishing with me, go on hikes, and occasionally tag along with me to work back when I was stationed on the ground working ship maintenance at the harbor; before I was needed to be sent up. We went between drawing and babbling away while I worked, to intently watching me, and even trying to help (which, I usually had to decline, promising he could always help me out when he was a little older and less likely to get me in trouble!) Ace best reminds me of- ahem. He's really similar to Daisuke. They're probably be best friends if they met.

But life at home was good. Every night, after the kids got into their pajamas, I'de curl up with them and tell them bed time stories. Their favorite being one I made up about a pirate who traveled through space! Ethel would join in, sometimes she'd tell the story. We'de all be snuggled up, usually on me and Ethel's bed, and then send them to their rooms to sleep afterwards- or on the occasion carry them to their beds, when they fell asleep laying in our arms mid-story. If wasn't perfect. Me and Ethel had our little scraps..but nothing ever big. The kids of course had their moments, but they always made up. We were *happy*.

And God, I can't wait to get back home to them.

[honeii-puff]

2024 Fic Review

I was tagged by @m34gs, you can view their post here.

Statistics

My Top 5 Fics by Hits:

Of Flowers and Cat-Tails - Catwin fic, Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU It's Quicker and Easier to Eat Your Young - Sorvus fic, s7 prediction with Half-Elf!Soren, Co-written with @sorinethemastermind Oh Brother of Mine (It's been a long, long time) - SoC oneshot where Matthias meets Jordie in the afterlife Well, you don't know me (but I know you) - SoC oneshot where Kaz bakes for the crows The Swan Upon Leda - TDP Sorvus fic, arc 3 where Soren leaves and gets a daughter

My Most Bookmarked Fic:

Of Flowers at Cat-Tails - (see above)

How Many Words I Wrote in 2024:

89,624

QUESTION THINGS:

What was the most surprising thing about writing in 2024: Probably the amount of traction my Catwin fic got. It was the first fic I ever fully completed (not including oneshots), and I found out that my friend's mom read it before she even knew me. So, that was fun.

What was the most enjoyable thing to write: By far, my s7 prediction fic with @sorinethemastermind, it has been a blast, and we are far from done!

Which fic is the most underrated: Probably stop my pain (it's crashing down, the sound of thunder), the platonic catwin oneshot I wrote for whumptober. It was my first technically MCD, but he came back to life so I don't think it counted. But yeah, I think I did really good.

Which fic(s) had something "cut" or an idea that never happened: Ooh, in And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, Soren and Rayla weren't going to be friends originally; they just knew each other from being in close proximity. Rayla would've barely tolerated him, but my writing got a mind of its own and BOOM friendship.

Which fic(s) did you want to write but didn't get around to: Ohhh my Del Bar Soren AU. I got partway through chapter one. Also this au I had where Corvus was a sorcerer who lived in the woods, and Soren was a shapeshifter who could turn into a small dragon and ended up being his familiar. Corvus would've ended up taking Callum on as an apprentice, too. Really loved that idea.

Any WIPs that never got published: A few. I was rewriting an old WoF Human HS au titled Welcome to the Playground, but lost inspo so that didn't end up getting out. There was also This Is How Villians are Made, which was my Arcane Maddie backstory about her in Noxus because I find her super interesting. I'm usually pretty good at posting my WIPs, my issue is usually just finishing them lol.

Share a snipped from a WIP fic: I'll do you one better- ya'll can get a snippet from my original story Hollowed Pearls:

Salome glanced up from her book every few pages, towards the Libor harbor. Energy pulsed through her veins, but she wasn’t sure if that was the wind tugging at her, desperate to be manipulated, or because her sister was finally home again. Her eyes landed on The Sun Howler, her sister’s esteemed vessel, with its cream sails emblazoned with her emblem; a sun with a dagger stabbed through the center. The rest of the ship was a dark wood, worn from its time on the sea. She still remembered the first time Maeve set out overseas. She wasn’t captain then, instead just a sixteen year old with a wish and a plan. Salome was eleven then, and remembered running down the dock, her bare feet hitting heavy against the wood while trying to chase the ship, while Maeve was waving back at her. That was five years ago, and those five years seemed to have passed by in a blur. Maeve would come home between adventures every now and then, never saying any longer than a weekend, before letting the tide pull her back out and into a new adventure.

8. Which fic was the one you were most excited to write: I'll have to say, my Sorvus Coffee Shop AU But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same (rises the moon). I just love the cozy gays. 9. Fic hopes for the New Year: I'm really hoping to focus less on fics, actually, and more on my original story. But on the fic front, I do want to finish up my WIPs, tie up loose ends, yknow that jazz.

No Pressure Tags: @sorinethemastermind @randomfandom-3 @jelzorz @lilisouless @19burstraat

[quibbs126]

All right, so as said last post, this was a request from @a-weird-bean-bag, and this is Chowder Cookie

For those who don’t recognize the bottom character, this is @a-weird-bean-bag’s character Goat Milk Cookie

You know fun fact, this is the 2nd OC x Canon I got, and the first was I think either the day before or earlier the same day. Haven’t finished that one though

So I think the process for this name was that I saw the two of these characters and was like “oh hey isn’t there some recipe in Breath of the Wild that uses seafood and milk?” and so I went looking on a website I knew for the name of it. Note that I know nothing about seafood, my family doesn’t eat it and we just generally stay away from it. Anyways, so the thing I was thinking of was trout soup, which I’m now realizing is from Stardew, not Breath of the Wild. Okay so it went Trout Soup from Stardew, which didn’t really work, so I went looking for anything that mixed seafood and milk, but couldn’t find anything. Then I thought about that BOTW recipe and looked it up and it was Clam Chowder. So I looked up chowder and it turns out it doesn’t necessarily have to clams, so I just went with Chowder Cookie

As stated above, it’s because it mixes seafood and milk. So, simple enough

Chowder:

Okay, looking at it now, maybe I made her skin too dark, but ah well, it’s probably fine. Anyways moving on to her hair

So I know Caviar and Goat Milk only have partially curly hair instead of Chowder’s entirely curly, and she probably looks closer to Cauliflower, but that’s just what I went with, and I liked it. I made her hair lighter than either of the two since it was supposed to be the soup, and I didn’t think Goat Milk’s hair color necessarily cut it as light enough

Also the pink and green bits are supposed to be like, things in the soup, since chowder doesn’t just seem to be a base soup, it has other ingredients in it. My idea is that she had more in her hair when she was younger, but maybe she picked them out to seem more professional or something. I also tried to make it seem somewhat liquid-y, but I don’t know how successful that was

I had a lot to say about her hair, but not much on the outfit front. I kind of just tried to come up with something based on Creme Republic characters, specifically the Lower City designs. She’s supposed to be a trader, so I wanted to make her look somewhat professional, but also she’s not into wearing particularly fancy clothes, so I just kind of went with this (though she probably also has more formal clothes, this is just day to day). I suppose it’s fine

Also you may notice the tiny horns. They were honestly a pretty last minute inclusion, hence why they look like they were kind of tacked on. But also I’m kind of fine with them the way they are

I was also thinking of giving her freckles like Goat Milk’s old design, but they didn’t pan out

But yeah, overall I like the design well enough. Maybe not one of my best but still good. Maybe doesn’t look enough like Caviar though

Anyways, so let’s move on to her character

So as I’ve stated before, she’s in the maritime trading business. I think I got this idea because Caviar’s captain of a ship (and I think their navy), and my brain was like “boats also = trading”, which may have been spurred by my recent history lectures which have been discussing the road to the American Revolution, and we got to the shutdown of Boston Harbor which affected merchants. But also I looked back at Goat Milk’s info and saw he’s a trader too, so it all works out

Generally she’s a very business oriented person, with a drive to get things done as quickly and effectively as possible. As such she can be a bit stern and not the most pleasant to be around if you work with her. She’s nicer if you meet her outside of work, she’s just trying to get things done

She also can have a bit of a short temper and doesn’t really take setbacks or mishaps well. I mean, she’ll find ways to work around them, but when she gets bad news she doesn’t react the best in the moment. Likely it will involve her swearing. Sometimes excessively

Also she likes chowder, as shown in the left sketch. I had something else there, but I thought I should show her being chill so she doesn’t seem like a completely angry person. She isn’t, it’s just that she gets pissed off a bit easily

Anyways I think that’s about it. I feel like I’m forgetting something but I don’t know what. Ah well, I can edit it in later if I remember. But yeah, I hope you enjoy her!

Oh and also, I didn’t know where to put this, but what actually got me to get around to drawing her was making this rough sketch. I actually did a few of these, and maybe it’ll help me actually get around to drawing them more, since it was pretty fun and I feel like drawing the other two I did sometime

Here was the initial sketch. It’s small so I just put it with the rest of the drawing so you’re not looking at a largely blank canvas

[kawareo]

for the durge ask meme- 19, 25, 27? 👀

19. Has your Dark Urge become particularly close to anyone romantically and/or platonically in their journey? If so, who, and what is the relationship like? If no, why not?

Oh you gave me a run for it with this one lol

The answer is yes! Strike gets close with all the companions (they all get close to eachother because found ✨family✨), he even has sex with a few (currently i'd say Lae'zel for sure, gotta go through the other companions romances before I decide fully for them though) and is surprisingly good friends with Karlach since they do have similar personalities with how excited they both are about life. Romantically he is sort of involved with Astarion.

What they have though is messy at best and fucked up at worst, since in my story, Astarion knew Strike before the tadpolings, but harbors resentments that make him not tell Strike about it. He's very much using Strike for protection and to kill Cazador so he is more manipulative than in the canon, but Strike is also hiding things from him and then they meet Gortash and it goes from complicated to a shitshow and i cant say much more because dont wanna spoil too much for my fic Unsaved, which is about durgestarion and all that

25. How does your Dark Urge feel about Sceleritas Fel?

He treats him like an overbearing uncle but before tadpoling he did rely on him a lot for basic life stuff, like reminding him to eat or shower or to have him wash his clothes. Strike was pretty spoiled in that way and while he doesn't remember Fel or the times before, he is still sometimes a little bit helpless and will forget to do certain things as he never had to do them before.

27. How does your Dark Urge feel about giving and receiving orders?

Strike's been leading a cult since he was nine - he's very comfortable with giving orders. Surprisingly though, he can like receiving them on occassion; it can be entertaining to him, and he doesnt have a problem with being ordered around as long as it is something he does actually want to do! In bedroom, he likes both.

[finedinereception]

Why is Sirius on your brain SO much?

Explain in Mario terms

make my brain go -flag pole noise-

haha okay but actually here we go. this is disorganized and more me vomiting my thoughts out and making you look at him but yknow.

the black hole server: the most soul sucking and messed up place to live since america

thanks for the insightful commentary, buddy

so sirius lives the life of the average True Gamer, in a dark hole full of anime figurines and merchandise or whatever. he likes adding to that collection and then fucking around with it because bloodsport really never died to him. who cares what ign had to say.

unfortunately, like all gamers, his home is not hospitable to most life.

weaker em beings apparently “enervate and die” within the server. thats delightfully fucked up, and honestly, a vast empty, dark, cold space that sucks the life out of pretty much everything around it and is only truly habitable to one lifeform is an insanely cool idea that i always love.

uh…. roche limit????

obviously, with such an unfriendly gamer den, sirius himself does not get a lot of company.

we’ll come back to this next section.

but basically the black hole server is a really cool idea and location that really serves to emphasize what an outside-context issue sirius is. he feels very “other” in this world, in part thanks to where hes made his home.

with friends like these, who needs mega man?

sirius has some… interesting ideas about what is good and reasonable for people. or what constitutes a healthy platonic relationship. actually just relationships in general.

i think its interesting he jumped straight to this with mega man, when he also harbored apollo flame, who was pretty damn open about his intentions to eventually usurp and subjugate sirius

WHICH SIRIUS WAS AWARE OF BTW

apollo flame! oh, you, always on about taking over the universe!

this is weird to say, with what we know about sirius in general and his personality (which we’ll be getting to soon) but… theres this pervasive sense that he views the Rs as a mix between pawns and, like, his perverse version of “friends”

the use of “our” here is interesting, along with the implication that sirius shares more information with them than he actually needs to

and the fact that sirius has the tendency to start talking to himself in the middle of a conversation…

and the fact that he enforces a friendly relationship between those who dont get along…

theres just a weird sense of sirius “playing” with dynamics, and while its certainly useful to him, its easy to imagine a hint of curiousity in there. the exploration of one of the only things that cant be taken by force.

of course you have blue skin and pronouns

look at him. look at him. hes based on a squid. hes got that squid drip. i think sirius would be into deep sea life. im choosing to view this as an in-character choice. he likes squid now, okay?

also. he canonically sparkles. LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT THIS SPARKLING SQUID TWINK. GOD. HE MAKES ME INSANE.

i also dont know where else to mention this, but hey what was up with mu metal. is he tied to mu. what was that about lmao. bro got pica.

he has 97 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces

he is so fucking stupid😭

the main, and final, thing i want to bring up is his extreme case of blue and orange morality. because being rude is worse than destroying a planet to him.

from here on out ill be using direct quotes since i actually have access to these and writing and ive hit image limit. what can i say theres so much i want you to look at.

Sirius: ... I don't need that rude EM being for my collection. 

and

Sirius: I was hoping to enjoy watching everyone on the planet panic for a bit... But I suppose destroying it outright would be fun too. 

back to back is an interesting display of standards. but id go further and argue that… sirius doesnt really act with malice.

MegaMan: Peoples lives... Planets... They aren't toys for you to play with. Have you even considered the pain you are putting all those people down there though? Sirius: Everything here will cease to exist. A black hole has no need for such things as emotions. You should... be happy. You will live forever within the darkness. You will be mine. MegaMan: I wouldn't call that living! I'd rather not exist! Sirius: ...I see. Do you think that you might change your mind? Stopping you without causing you any injury would be a bit of a nuisance to me. It will be hard for us to play together with you injured.

and you could argue that this is an attempt at persuasion… except that sirius doesnt really need that. hes pretty confident in his ability to win a fight, so id argue this is genuinely just how he thinks. his fascination with destroying things is processed not with malicious intent but the same perverse curiosity that drives a child to pour water on an ant hill.

mean spirited? yeah, but its all in good fun to him.

hes the living version of all those jokes about a person who never talks to other people or goes outside or anything. hes had his own little bubble to develop the most deranged moral compass and interal narrative of all time.

tl;dr - ITS HARD TO NOT THINK ABOUT HIM A LOT