#there's a second ask on this exact topic that's a bit more detailed so i'll respond with greater detail for that one

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Any thoughts on Scar’s twinkification in 03 compared to the manga?

At no point in time have I ever concerned myself with the design differences between 03 Scar and manga Scar, and I still don't care now. In general the source material and how my preferred adaptation differs from it has never had an impact on my love for the 2003 anime, and this is no less true about Scar.

[thatonebipotato]

SURPRISE I actually forced myself to sit down and talk about my au for once! YIPPEE!!!! So here it is: my Dreamfeaster AU :D!!

[CONTENT WARNINGS: nightmares, sleepwalking, emotional manipulation, physical manipulation, physical violence, mental decline]

Bill is more of a parasite here. After his home dimension was destroyed, he got trapped between the space of the second and third dimensions, only being able to interact with dreamscapes. Dreams have a certain amount of power/magic, which he consumes to sustain himself, since he technically doesn't exist anywhere. Dreams from creative/smart types have more power behind them. Switching hosts takes a lot of energy and is entirely random; he is simply pulled to the dreams like a magnet. He usually ends up in creative minds bc they have a stronger pull.

He has the power to manipulate the fabric of a dream to be whatever he wants, and when he eats a dream, the dreamer won't be able to remember it. Dreams keep him alive, but nightmares fuel him. When he needs a little pick-me-up, he'll induce a nightmare to eat. The removal of a dream will wear the host down over time, and it is even worse with a nightmare, as the host will wake up terrified but not recall why. Eventually, the hosts mind will be broken, and their dreams will start coming up blank. When that happens, he'll need to swap hosts.

Another side effect of his presence is sleepwalking. Eventually, the host will start experiencing sleepwalking, which can often put them into danger. Especially when the nightmares start.

One day, Bill attaches to the mind of one Stanford Pines. Ford is a lucid dreamer and takes the time to try interacting with Bill. Bill, who's run into lucid dreamers before and never had any try reaching out to him before, chalks it up to a fluke and ignores him before eating the dream. The next time they meet, Ford goes through the exact same motions, and Bill realizes he's different.

They get to talking, Ford telling Bill about his life and offering companionship, and Bill offering the knowledge he's acquired from past hosts over the years. Bill takes on a form that he thinks will please Ford more(it does), and Ford starts taking notes on the dream demon. Eventually, they come to the topic of how Bill got to where he is, and Bill explains his situation. Bill makes an off-hand comment about a device that could weaken a point in the dimensions so that he can slip through and start actually existing, and Ford's like "bet".

So Ford calls up an old college friend to help him with making this device: a portal that could potentially tear through the fabric of reality, creating a soft spot that the demon could tear through.

The portal is making good progress, and life is going great. They decided to run a test to see if the portal would work. It does, but it's very unstable, so they need to work out the finer details so that Bill can safely cross through. Ford tells Bill this when he enters the dreamscape, and Bill is ecstatic. Everything is great, and nothing is wrong in any way!

Until Ford starts sleepwalking.

Ford being not only aware of Bill's presence but also actively his friend(and maybe more...) has slowed down his mental decline by a lot, but some things can never be delayed.

Ford brings this up with Bill, who seems a little shocked but not surprised. He's like, "Oh yeah, that uh... that happens. You were different, so I kinda thought that maybe it wouldn't happen." So Ford's like, "Oh! Um. Can you like. Stop??" and Bill's like, "Quite literally no. Sorry." And Ford's like, "Hm, alright, I'll uh......... I'll figure it out."

So Ford deals with it but it's getting a little bit in the way of his actual life(things being broken or misplaced, his notes/information going missing, his food spoiling bc he accidentally knocked the fridge open, etc etc.), so he asks Fiddleford to help keep Ford safe and such(basically they baby proof the house).

After a while, Ford starts looking for other ways to get rid of Bill. He finds a few, but they all involve killing or severely injuring the guy, so Ford's like, "Mm no, I'll hold off on these. I don't wanna do that. We're friends :(." The sleepwalking gets worse, but it's still manageable, and Ford is still looking for ways to remove him, but literally can't find anything that gives him the result he wants/would even work.

It's going alright, with the portal coming along well and Ford's sleepwalking still manageable, but it is still getting worse, and he's also kinda starting to see things and have memory issues. It comes to a point when Bill catches glimpses of Ford looking for other ways to get rid of him and misunderstands horribly, thinking that he's trying to kill him. They get into a big fight about it, and it escalates until Bill starts weaving the dream into a nightmare, and Ford wakes up.

Ford is then left waking up from nightmares with no recollection of them for the next 2 weeks, which is starting to make him spiral mentally. Ford's parasomnia develops into the RSBD(REM sleep behavior disorder) kind. Essentially, he starts responding to his dreams in real life. This results in many injuries like bruises, cuts, and small fractures that he has absolutely no clue how they got there, but they're getting worse and worse.

Eventually, Fiddleford has to move in with Ford to help him stay safe. Fiddleford is very concerned about him, but Ford keeps putting his concerns aside because he understands why this is happening. "It's a misunderstanding, Fidds. Once he realizes that we're still helping him, he'll calm down, don't worry." So every night, Ford gets strapped down into bed, in a room with several locks on the one door and no windows.

The nightmares don't stop, but Ford isn't getting hurt anymore, so they carry on as regular. Ford still isn't remembering any of his dreams, but he's so sure that if he can just get to Bill, then everything would be ok.

In the dreamscape, Ford tries convinving Bill to just listen and calm down. Bill is being difficult though, and just like before it just continually escalates, until Bill's taunting Ford about how shitty his life is. He then starts showing him terrible things, like his parents being disappointed in him, his brother dying, Fiddleford leaving him, etc etc. Ford, out of anger, pins Bill under him and starts hitting him, basically just like "I'M TRYING TO HELP YOU WHY ARE YOU BEING SO SHITTY RIGHT NOW DUDE, JUST LISTEN TO ME."

Bill's laughing the whole time, and Ford stops briefly to ask him why. Bill basically just mocks him, telling him that he'll never amount of anything, and that they've been through this scenario so many times, and how Ford always gets mad at him for being the irrational one but their interactions somehow always end up the exact same way, and how he'll make sure this one counts. Ford's about to ask him what he means by that, but then he wakes up and realizes that he actually just beat the shit out of Fiddleford.

He gets off of him and goes into a panic bc he literally just beat up his friend, so he goes to get a first aid kit, but when he comes back Fiddleford is already halfway out the door. Fiddleford tells him that him coming here was a mistake, that he's lost so much, and he thought maybe if they could make this work it'd be worth it, but it's gotten to be too much and he just can't do this anymore.

Ford is left alone in that house, finally being able to remember the dream from only a few minutes ago, realizing how bad things have been fucked.

He decides to go through with just killing Bill, but his progress in getting the needed materials gets thwarted every time he falls asleep. He decides to just try staying awake, but his intense sleep deprivation means he keeps getting things wrong, so nothing works, and the cycle continues repeating.

Despite knowing that Bill quite literally can not harm him himself, Ford begins an intense downward spiral of thinking that he can. Seeing how he can be physically manipulated when he's asleep, but the intense amounts of anxiety, paranoia, and depression he's getting from the nightmares, the sleep deprivation, and the effects that dream removals play on his psyche, Ford decides to hide the journals to keep them safe from Bill, and then he'll destroy the portal.

The portal incident with Stanley plays as normal, though Ford is just a little bit more wired during it. Yada yada, fight between brothers, yada yada, Ford ends up through the portal.

Going through the portal separates Bill from Ford's head, as it was supposed to, and sends him to the Nightmare Realm.

From here the story is still being worked out, so I'll make a separate post later on about what happens in the 30 years Ford's gone and then Weirdmageddon :)

[tonydaddingham]

(last anon= me, was a bit anxious it might not go over well for some reason- off now bc changing the capitalization was a pain)

i agree on the human aus! love their flexibility, the sorta "yeah, may as well happen" you get clicking on something (with love) completely ridiculous. it's also so much fun to see what people do with crowley's eyes and his relationship to the glasses.

i'm very very early in planning this, but i want a&c to be as close to theirshow characterizations as i can possibly get them (book boys are amazing but i want the drama). i don't know that i'll do a very good job at justifying it with their backstories, but i'm gonna try. (idk. people have different opinions on personality being nature vs nurture. i can claim majority nature if it's more convenient)

i'm thinking here that crowley, personally, would have had to kill somebody or a couple somebodies, in an absolute (it at least appeared so, still does), life or death, them or him scenario (only his life saved). said somebody or somebodies would have attacked first, and out of desperation-- not totally their choice either. i'm assuming for the sake of the fic that he'd be able to do it at all, and then survive a couple decades after, so there's... something.

i just can't figure out exactly how he'd have coped with it, and whether he'd, later, think of it as justified, like how much guilt there would be. don't know what's even plausible.

my biggest problem is that framing him as 100% Good and Pure (and weirdly helpless?) like ppl do sometimes is literally my biggest fear writing this (huge mischaracterization in general). i don't want to go for the exact same indifference as in the show, for reasons you mentioned (and also that level of apathy would fuck up the entire rest of the fic), but not too far in the opposite direction, either.

tysm for the first response and considering a second, this seems a whole lot more solvable- and sorry if it's a lot to ask to go over all this (although your ability to hold a shit ton of information at once and then respond eloquently is impressive asf, looking at like every chain with LWA), i just drew a bit of a blank. also my bad if it's got a little heavy for your blog, just realized looking at the tags 😭

oh @aq-uatic you silly goose!!!✨ im absolutely fine with asks like that, please feel free to sling them my way anytime!!! ultimately tho, that's what the tw was for; just in case it was a bit heavy for someone else, but for me, personally? there's not a lot of themes that i feel uncomfortable discussing, almost all topics are welcome and i'll soon say if they aren't!!!💕

ooooh okay, so a self-defence angle!!! i think that that could be interesting to explore, because - well, you could take it from the perspective that crowley is initially very righteous in defending himself, rightly thinking that he deserved to protect himself, and the use of force was proportionate. he could initially come across as quite dispassionate and apathetic about it, "me vs. them? well of course it was going to be me!", and ultimately not want to address the whole concept of having committed murder because, on face value, it was justified. and maybe he privately doesn't want to examine it bc he's apprehensive about what he'd find?

but then as plot (and character) develops, turns out that because the whole thing was so fast, fuelled by adrenaline and the instinct to survive, crowley ends up... not being able to remember much of it? and as details start to come back, i think that's where the cognitive dissonance element would play - that he then has to reconcile himself as being someone who he feels is morally sound, 'would never harm another human being', a good person... but then is starting to remember his fear in the situation, confronting his own mortality, and what it says about him to be able to take another life with little thought other than his own self-preservation? as well as remember the specific physical details of what happened? the sounds, the smells? looks in the mirror afterwards and sees a different person looking back?

obviously without knowing the full motive of the person attacking him, who they are, what their story is etc.,... i think crowley could end up dealing with it in a way that he accepts that he cannot control others' actions, only his own. that that person chose to put him in the position of having to defend himself, and whilst, yes, that person may have had a family, friends, potential... when he's in a position of ensuring his own survival, he may have actually made the best decision he could have at the time. idk if you're planning to explore the attacker's circumstances in any depth, but if - for example - they were trying to rob him out of their own desperation (e.g. homelessness/austerity, fund addiction, peer pressured/gang context, mental health), maybe crowley would deal with that by exploring charitable work, or good causes, that seek to alleviate that very desperation? and that's how he heals from the experience?

again, hoping this might be some food for thought!!!✨💕 please do link me your fic when you've posted anything, i really admire how you're exploring this concept and it sounds really interesting and promising!!! i'll reiterate that i love getting asks, especially when they explore topics like this; i feel the LWA ones are a little bit of an anomaly, for being really analysis-heavy (which i love, let me clear), but getting to be a bit creative is exciting for me too!!!✨

[skatingbi]

I GOT THE JOB AND IM TRAINING RNLETS CELEBRATE WITH MORREEE

CW: Specific details of Anxiety attacks. Mostly modeled after my own symptoms, so definitely read ONLY if ur not feeling anxiety. Also a small detail about su1cide prevention in the beginning but its not explicitly stated to be that.

Also, I'm writing this in a way where Hakuri is self aware of his own issues but has zero clue what tf to do (me too bro) bc I feel like in fics we dont rly dive into the topic of self awareness of ur own mental health that much but idk 🤷🏽‍♂️

Hakuri doesn't have the bravery to ask for help. He knows Chihiro told Shiba what happened, and Shiba hasn't said a word about it. Its his eyes keeping a closer watch that give it away.

Hakuri had only just started being able to look into the mirror again a few days later. When he does he notices that Chihiro evened out the haircut a bit in the front. It's a little awkward looking, especially since his hair has grown out longer in the back since joining the group. The day after, Chihiro acts like nothing happened, Char exclaims how cool his hair is now that it's cut. Hakuri smiled at her and said thank you before they started eating breakfast that day.

Mysteriously, all the scissors and sharp objects that aren't kitchen knives have disappeared. At least, he thinks so. The scissors are gone and right now he's trying to find a safety pin for one of the straps on his pants thats worn down right at the edge of where it's sewn on. He thought they were where the entryway was, but he turned up empty handed. So he searched his shared room, then the bathroom, then the living room, but he gives up after every room comes back empty. The strap will probably stay on for a while longer anyways, he tells himself.

Right now they're hiding out in Hinao's apartment. For the past week Shiba has been teleporting in and out and providing information for Chihiro, especially now that his presence has caused a shift in the sorcerer climate. There's not much to do except wait. So, Hakuri walks over to the kitchen where Chihiro is, out of his trench coat and only wearing the black pants and turtle neck. Its nice to see him a little more relaxed, at least in appearence.

"Chihiro," Chihiro looks up from the opened fridge, "Im not gonna lie...Im bored." He states plainly, which earns him a small quirk from Chihiro's lips and a slight huff that barely reaches his ears.

"We're supposed to stay inside until Shiba gives the all clear," Chihiro glances at Hakuri before looking at the clock, "It is almost time to eat...Maybe we could make some food..." Chihiro almost seems like he's talking to himself and his gaze almost seems to grow distant for a second before his eyes are back on Hakuri.

"Oh, then let me help!" He replies, which earns a small nod from Chihiro before they start to gather everything needed to cook something simple.

Unfortunately, Hakuri only learned the extreme basics during the few months he was homeless and had to work with what he got. He knows how to work a few things from his time at the Sazanami estate as well, but when you have to sneak into the kitchen at 2 am to get food, you can only learn so much without making noise. Hakuri tells this to Chihiro, who listens patiently until he finishes speaking.

"Then I'll leave you to make the Miso and rice, alright?" and there it is again. His friend's tendency to give him an out if he needs it, no matter how small or trivial the task is. It makes Hakuri's heart stutter, but he brushes the feeling off with a smile.

"You got it!" is the last thing said between them before they prepare some lunch for the rest of the occupants. He quickly becomes distracted with his task of measurements. 5 people and considering leftovers for tomorrow, rice can be made into fried rice, miso is probably best made with exact measurements anyways since they have the easy stuff that only takes 5 minutes and some hot water to prepare. Chihiro already has the tofu and seaweed prepped for him.

The silence is strangely comforting. Hakuri usually hates silence, it usually implied disaster or someone's mind coming up with a harsh punishment, but he knows Chihiro is just a quiet man by default. They don't bump into each other once, even when Chihiro had to nearly press into his space to get something from one of the cupboards.

He focuses on that split second of warmth and latches onto it right when it pulls away completely. It leaves him pink, warm, and heart stuttering again. The back of his mind where he shoves all of his true wants screams to reach out again. To lean his shoulder against Chihiro's at the bare minimum.

Lunch is done, though, so Hakuri instead helps gather Char and Hinao before they all plate their own portion of food. Instead of sitting at the kitchen like normal, they all decide to eat in the living room since Shiba hasn't come back yet.

Even while eating, the warmth of Chihiro is still there. It cant even be replaced by the miso. As Hakuri eats with his friends, he wonders if Chihiro thought of his warmth too.

Its 3 am and he cant fall asleep. Shiba returned shortly after lunch and brought news of the effects of the Sazanami family's downfall and crumbling authority over the sorcerer world as a result. He explained how Hakuri's presence will put a target on his and everyone's back right now, especially when he was seen with Chihiro the night of the auction. Chihiro had decided that it was too dangerous to go out just yet, much to the dark haired man's own concerns about the swords still out there.

That conversation let Hakuri's own thoughts simmer until now, boiled over and burning and painful in his own mind. Right now, at 3am, he cant sit still. His thoughts are going a million miles a minute, his heart hurts, theres a headache forming from all the tension coiling up his body.

This sucks. He hates this feeling and it always comes and goes whenever it pleases. What's even worse is that he knows exactly what it is and can't figure out how to fix it: an anxiety attack. Screw his own self awareness.

So, for the past hour, Hakuri has resigned to his fate of having to ride out the excruciating anxiety burning itself into his mind. It doesn't physically hurt per se, but it definitely leaves uncomfortable symptoms and equally unpleasant physical attributes. He had to quietly leave the shared bedroom and pace around the bathroom since Shiba took the couch. Its the only source of privacy, much to his dismay since the bathroom is not big enough to pace around in.

It's barely past 3 am when a soft knock is heard at the door.

"Hakuri?" A deep, tired voice calls out. Tired enough where softness still lingers around the edges. It startles Hakuri enough to delay his own spiraling for a few moments.

"Yeah? Sorry, wait, hold on," Hakuri isn't really able to gather himself enough to speak, with his thoughts muddled so much that speaking is not on his list of priorities. It's too late/early to think about that. He opens the door a bit to Chihiro, in a black shirt and sweats with his hair a little messy, "I, uhm, cant sleep. Too much going on." He says. Chihiro nods and leans against the doorway.

"Do you need anything?" Chihiro asks, red eyes matching the gentle whisper of his voice. Hakuri tries to think the question over but pulls out blanks so he shrugs slightly. Chihiro's hand touches his shoulder and it guides him back to their shared room, right to Hakuri's futon.

Hakuri sits down and shakes his head, now that he's sitting still his hands shake so much that his fingers barely cooperate when he wants to flex his fingers. "No-No I just need to...ride this out? Nothing helps." He breathes out, shaky and nervous now that his vulnerability is laid bare and there's no running from it. At least the lights are off, he thinks. Chihiro just nods and kneels in front of him, similar to when he found Hakuri in the bathroom with scissors in his hands. He doesn't say anything and he doesn't need to. Chihiro telegraphs his movements with practiced ease. Maybe he got the skill from Char, or learned after what happened to him several years ago. Maybe it's just subconscious, a habit that formed with no important reason other than Chihiro's need to save others in little ways outside of swordsmanship.

Hakuri's distracted enough that he flinches a bit when both of the other's hands rest firmly on his shoulders, and the pressure from the contact is strangely comforting. Hakuri wants to relax under it, to soak in the warmth from calloused palms hidden by the fabric of the cotton shirt. Maybe he wants to let himself be selfish, even if the cruel voice in his mind screams at him that he doesn't deserve the comfort.

"I have an idea," Chihiro states softly, "Deep pressure therapy. It needs physical contact, so if you don't want that I understand." Chihiro says. His dark silhouette is like a shadow in the dimness of the bedroom. It's almost scary that even though he's actively trying to minimize his presence, it's still a little intimidating in its own right. It fascinates Hakuri; how Chihiro is naturally terrifying yet makes so much effort to comfort him like he's worthy of it.

Hakuri decides then that he wants that. Anxiety and crumbled mental health be damned.

"Okay," Hakuri whispers, "I trust you." because he does. It's terrifying how much he trusts the man before him. How much he's comforted by sharp vermillion and coal, a heavy contrast to melting ice and the early morning sky. He sits still, holding his breath and waiting, hands still shaking along with his body and his heart palpitating from stress and something else unrecognizable.

Chihiro wordlessly shifts forward until his hands press down a little more, and Hakuri quickly finds them laid down in his futon. Chihiro is laying half his bodyweight on top of him, arms wrapped around his waist tightly so it's enough to create a pressure that blankets his senses almost immediately. Their legs are tangled, and it's a little awkward for a few minutes especially when you're cuddling with a friend who never seemed to favor physical contact at all. If theres one thing Hakuri knows for certain, though, is that Chihiro never does something he'd be uncomfortable doing when it comes to topics outside of sword fighting.

Eventually, to make it less awkward is what Hakuri tells himself, he wraps his own arms around Chihiro's waist to keep the shorter man from sliding off of him.

It's...comfortable. It's warm, and the raven hair tickles his nose a bit. Theres softness lingering in the contact shared that contradicts nicely with the weight of Chihiro on top of him. Hakuri also realizes that despite their height difference (it's small, but noticable enough for Hinao to poke fun at Chihiro occasionally) they fit really nicely together. Like two puzzle pieces directly in the center of the board.

They don't talk but they don't need to. Hakuri's heart slows while the ambient noises of cars and sirens outside drown out the rest of his thoughts. He sighs and basks in comfort and safety that he'd never thought he'd feel again.

He doesn't have nightmares that night, and neither does Chihiro.

Sighs...my taste in manga has evolved. Time for Kagurabachi

Also I cant sleep bc i have an interview in 11 hours so take this unedited contribution to the fandom

CW: Hakuri's childhood trauma and PTSD, descriptions of PTSD triggers and Anxiety

Hakuri cut his hair.

In hindsight (10 seconds ago) it was a stupid, impulsive decision made out of sheer anguish, anger, sadness, grief, and emotional instability. In all fairness, it was only the longer part of his hair, the part he wrapped with a ribbon to keep together and out of his face. He cut it too short, though. Now, it's choppy and anyone can see from a mile away that he cut them with paper scissors he found in a drawer near the kitchen.

He doesn't really remember how he got here, only that he looked in the mirror. He saw his siblings staring back at him, disappointed, disgusted, apathetic towards him and then he felt the bruises that have since been long gone from his skin. He felt the crooked fingernails, the bones improperly healed in his hands shaking from how tense he got so quickly.

He felt fear.

Now, his hair is choppy on one side. Tears well up even more and he realizes that he's been crying. Looking in the mirror again, it's just him, the scissors, his red face and puffy eyes staring back and his god awful haircut.

He hears the front door open and close and in a stupid attempt to hide himself he slams the bathroom door shut. Shortly after locking it, he hears Chihiro's voice amongst everyone else's usual chatter.

"Hakuri?" He calls out, and he feels his footsteps grow closer. Hakuri's hands tremble, dropping the scissors. He doesnt know what to do. He knows Chihiro wont get mad, maybe Char will laugh at his hair for a bit. Unfortunately, his rational mind hasnt caught up yet. Its far behind in the race to claw out the hair from the sink and throw it in the small trash bin in the corner. Theres a knock at the bathroom door and Hakuri jumps at the sudden noise.

"Hakuri? You okay?" Chihiro asks, voice laced with concern through the door. It takes a moment for Hakuri to try and compose himself, clearing his throat enough to reply, "Yeah-Yeah I'm fine!"

Chihiro clearly doesnt buy it, "You dont sound okay," The door knob rattles softly, "Can you open the door?"

Hakuri shakes his head before he realizes he needs to speak, backing away from the door, but then deciding against it with how rough his vocal cords feel, "I...I messed up, Chihiro," He admits, another sob escaping him before he can stop it.

"I'm not hurt! Promise! I just-just messed up and it looks bad and I dont want you to judge me."

Silence stretches for only a few seconds, and Hakuri swears he hears Chihiro's breathing through the door.

"Hakuri, I swear to you I will not judge," Chihiro's voice is low and reassuring, more than Hakuri believes he's deserving of right now, "Let me in?"

He doesnt know how Chihiro can just give promises like that to him when theyre so rare. Its a moment of raw vulnerability that he's displaying, all for the sake of making sure Hakuri is okay. The ugly part of him tells him he doesnt deserve it, that he's better off staying locked in the bathroom and telling Chihiro to leave. That rational part of him knows it wont work, that its not true because the man on the other side of that door believes he deserves more.

He unlocks the door, but cant bring himself to open it, so Chihiro meets him halfway and slowly opens the door to enter the bathroom, closing it behind him before looking up.

Theres a longer stretch of silence, Chihiro's expression doesnt show any hint of what Hakuri is looking for. He's indifferent, but thats his normal look. He watches with ingrained perceptiveness as the other's eyes dart around cautiously before landing on the evidence of his unfortunate haircut and mental breakdown.

"Ah, you cut your hair." Thats all chihiro says before bending down to pick up the scissors, placing them on the sink's counter carefully. Hakuri can only stare at the floor and nod. He can feel tears threatening to form again and now he feels like crying for two reasons instead of one. His head hurts.

Theres a hand on his shoulder, thumb just barely touching his neck and Hakuri has to fight back the instinct to run. Chihiro notices, but his hand stays right where it is as a soothing presence amist the last dregs of his breakdown plaguing his brain.

"Its not that bad, you just need to even it out," Chihiro states, "I can cut it for you, if you want." The offer stands as an out for Hakuri. Chihiro does those a lot, where he'll offer to do something for him but give him the verbal reassurance that he can leave or say no whenever he wants to. He considers it for a moment, before squashing down his shame and giving a shallow nod.

"Stay here, I'll get proper scissors." Then Chihiro disappears from the room.

Hakuri sits on the toilet lid in the meantime, exhaustion slowly creeping in as he starts to remember bits and pieces of the episode. He remembers Shiba telling him about how some people have them when they're healing from trauma of some kind. Lately, he's had more than usual, mostly at night in his nightmares or when he's so anxious he cant sleep and has to pace around the tiny room to tire himself out.

He remembers Shiba telling him about what exactly he's going through, too.

"Its called PTSD. A lot of people have it, especially because of the war. Make no mistake, though, kid. Anyone can have it, and its a bitch to deal with, but eventually you learn how to live in spite of it."

That conversation was mentally taxing, he thinks. He wonders if this is a part of that, too. Could he have stopped it? Been normal? Or maybe he could have fought back, even if it ended in something miraculously worse than mental scars.

He doesn't hear Chihiro enter the room again, but he does make his presence obvious by standing in front of him, startling Hakuri from his thoughts.

"If you change your mind, even halfway through, just tell me," Chihiro whispers as he kneels down before Hakuri.

"Okay, I promise," He whispers back, voice shaky once he feels calloused hands brushing through his hair. Chihiro gives him a small smile, one of those rare ones that never see the light of day. For one quick moment Hakuri thinks about how he wants to see Chihiro smile more.

The hair cutting is simple, and Hakuri has to close his eyes unless he'd rather blink away the small bits of hair that fall onto his face. He sputters a bit when some get in his mouth and it makes Chihiro huff whats his own version of a laugh, just a small puff of air what would be seen as mild sarcasm to most people. It feels like hours of Chihiro's hands carding through his hair, his hands gently brushing the hair away from his eyes, the sound of scissors snipping through the choppy bits of Hakuri's remnants of what he remembers seeing in the mirror.

He opens his eyes when Chihiro puts down the scissors, and is met with the man's own eyes staring. He doesn't want to look away yet. When he's letting his guard down, even for a fraction of a second, there's a softness to him that's impossible to ignore. Hakuri wants to take it in, maybe even ingrain it into his mind like a polaroid for him to keep forever. He doesn't want to look in the mirror yet and Chihiro wont ask him to.

"Thank you," He murmurs, still looking at Chihiro and the deep red eyes that crinkle minutely. He notices then that maybe Chihiro has been smiling more than he thought.

"Are you feeling alright enough to leave the bathroom?" Chihiro asks, standing and offering a hand that Hakuri takes so he stands with him.

"Yeah. I think so," He yawns, "Tired though."

"Thats okay, I'll let the others know not to disturb you." Hakuri nods in acknowledgement. Chihiro guides Hakuri to leave the bathroom with him and doesnt leave his side until Hakuri is lying on his futon in their tiny shared room that they're borrowing from Hinao.

Once comfortable with the sheets up to his chin and facing Chihiro, who stands in the doorway still, he smiles. It's a small one, tired and grateful for the other's presence and help through an ugly moment.

"Hakuri?" Chihiro's voice betrays his's stoic expression.

"Yeah?" His own voice wavers, too.

"If you ever have an episode again and need help, call for me or Shiba." Chihiro says, setting his voice so there's no room for negotiation. He's serious, and that rattles Hakuri a little.

"Okay, I will," He answers back, hoping to gain the bravery to ask for help for something like this. Chihiro nods and shuts the door behind him shortly after leaving.

[mminttae]

Clandestine | 02

-> Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x reader

-> Genre : tattoo!artist Jungkook, mafia! JJK,mafia au, bloody!missions, slight violence, got secrets they can't tell, angst, romance, Jungkook's part time job is flirting, sad (backstory), Y/N is strong!

-> Summary : who would have known that just doing a part time job at a night club would lead you to the tattoo artist Jeon Jungkook's messed up world. One letter related to the secret comes out of your mouth you'll be laying in Jungkook's arms but alive or not, that's not guaranteed...

-> Word Count : 4.286 K ( A/N: I’m increasing words )

-> T/W body language, killing, curse words and intimacy are included in the story (you may read if you're comfortable with these)

Part : 2

<< previous chap

.・゜-: ✧ :-playlist -: ✧ :-゜・．

Jungkook's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Even if me saying that line didn't flatten him enough I knew the nickname did as it always have been doing. It was clearly visible that he didn't expect me to be this bold suddenly. But he being himself smirked after a couple of seconds as his hand snaked up to grab my wrist pulling me more closer "Sure princess.. Do you want to go to the trip now? " His tongue rolling over his bottom lip as his piercing doe eyes holding so many thoughts looked at my lips then to my eyes.

"I don't want to interrupt but the trip has to be postponed "Jimin interferes in the moment, his eyes narrowed and only looking at me as if scared that the younger guy would throw him out if he locked eyes with his. Making a 'tch' sound Jungkook raises his eyebrows at Jimin in a manner that reads he's asking why postpone. I yeet his hand which was holding my wrist and get off from the table clearing my throat while fixing the skirt and apron. Jungkook clearly disappointed for not being able to hear my answer gets up from the seat while putting the black leather jacket around his shoulders. Jimin and Taehyung following him gets up too grabbing their bags. Jungkook walked up to me while fixing his bangs with his index finger.

"Gotta go princess a client's waiting" Nodding I proceeded to walk away but I could hear Jungkook saying with a sad dramatic tone. "Atleast act that you don't want me to go". I'm afraid I won't be able to because I myself don't know what this client of yours gonna do if you don't go on time. Is the person waiting even a client or not? Knitting my eyebrows I look back only to meet with strangers taking up the seat. The three tall mesmerizing men with inks on their body not to be seen anywhere. I don't know what's going on in that foolish yet extremely clever brain of yours but...

Be careful Mr. Artbook..

End of YOUR POV

Mid summer yet the night breeze is able to run shivers down your spine. Not a single soul in sight.

10 at night maybe the shopkeepers closed down the shutters and went to bed. Not many shops here in this area to even begin with. The only workshop's bell which rings here is the Jeon's Tattoo corner which has been ringing from the morning today , seemed to have stopped in the evening but now making its sound again. "Argh I should really break down this bell "

With an annoyed expression the black haired guy opens the drawers searching for a fresh towel. The tall man who just entered the shop walked past the desk table, turning the door knob and allowing himself inside the cozy room. His loud footsteps on the wooden floor telling Jungkook that the guest has arrived.

"Where were you? I waited here for five minutes then went inside the nearby plant store to kill time"

Taking off the long coat the tall silver haired guy walks up to the chair positioned in the middle of the room beside the various tools. "Sorry hyung, Taehyung and Jimin wanted a new tattoo so went to hear out their designs"

Jungkook says, eyebrows knitted while he fishes out the stencil of the beautiful clematis he has drawn beforehand of the leader's arrival. Smiling to himself he walks up to the seated boss whose like a big brother to him, he puts the stencil aside. Taking out a black rubber band from his pocket he takes his hair and ties it up to a small ponytail before taking out a drawer full of tattoo needles and inks. "Heard that Yoongi started boxing classes with you"

The older male speaks as his lip corners slowly moves upwards. Jungkook giving out a laugh says, "Yea Yoongi hyung be moving like a turtle. "

The thought of his hyung boxing and whining that it's hard is enough to make the little one giggle. Taking out a small wooden stool with one hand as the other one was holding the tattoo gun, Jungkook sits himself beside the strong looking man who rolls up his shirt's sleeves revealing all the different type of arts and words of different languages tattooed on his arm.

"Need chewing gum?"

The younger one asks at the thought that it might hurt but the older one replies plainly that he's fine after all his skin had been coming in contact with this gun for a long time now. Jungkook nods before resting the needle on the free space on the top of the man's biceps before starting to draw on it, the awestrucking clematis. "Was thinking of getting a lip piercing but not being able to get it cuz of the adults in the house"

The man says while his dimples makes visits to his cheeks.

"The exact same reason why am postponing on getting an eyebrow piercing"

Jungkook replies as he carefully moves the tattoo gun sideways on the man's bicep.

"So when are you planning on telling your sister?"

He asks as the silver haired guy closes his eyes once realizing what Jungkook meant.

"When the time's right.. "

He replies, slowly opening his eyes his gaze meeting the ceiling.

"But first we need to pinpoint Mr. Choi's location"

Replying with a small and quiet yes Jungkook draws the details on the flower carefully.

"Seokjin has been checking the cctvs regularly and the only thing he found was the black hyundai stopping at a night club at exactly 7pm every Tuesday and Wednesday"

"What's the night club's name? "

Jungkook asks as he draws on the small leaves.

"Hell's night club"

With just the mention of the night club's name Jungkook's hand stops moving as his eyes widened. "Isn't that the club you often visit with the others? "

The silver haired man asks making Jungkook quietly nod his head. If the most feared mafia in the country slash his team's biggest rival had been going to the exact same club at the exact same time as his how come he never saw the familiar old man's face? He thought.

What kind of person does the man disguise him as that even Jimin who encountered him multiple times doesn't notice. "You should be careful and try to see your clients faces carefully and see if they match that old fart's face or not"

Jungkook humming a response continued on giving the clematis it's final touch. Finishing the tattoo he removes the gun making the silver haired man sit up straight and fix his shirt.

"You know what to do right?"

Jungkook asks referring to putting on Vaseline ointment on the tattoo and stuffs. The older guy nods while fetching his coat. "I'll get going then. Thanks for the tattoo kook"

Jungkook simply nods his mind stuck in a different topic. Putting the equipments away and tidying up the towels as the older guy leaves the shop and disappears into the darkness of the night in the empty alleyway, Jungkook couldn't help but think about what you were up to. His mind stitching up different negative thoughts together.

"If Mr. Choi is really going to that club then he must have seen Y/N always talking to us..... What if he does something to her? " Jungkook asks to himself and the next thing he does is take his bag, turn off the lights, lock the doors and run off to meet you.

• -

"I'll be off then"

Bowing politely you take hold of the two big disposable bags and huff out a breathe when you realize how heavy both of them were. Kicking the back staff door with your leg open the first thing you see is Jeon Jungkook leaning on the wall infront. His hair tied up in a small ponytail, a bag hung around his shoulder and inked hands resting inside his jeans pockets. His eyes falls on your hands holding the disposable garbage bags, sighing he walks up to you.

"I thought your job was to serve and take orders not bring out garbages" You looked down at the bags in your hands while saying, "I was coming out anyways it's no biggie"

You flashed him a small smile but his eyes looked worried and his face tensed. You wondered what happened but didn't dare to ask thinking that he will only answer with 'none of your business' . Yes Jeon Jungkook unknowingly says harsh things without thinking when he's tensed. Jungkook takes the garbage bags from your hands and put it beside the door when his eyes lands on your right hand which was bandaged. His eyes widen and he quickly took your right hand examining it while asking

"How did this happen? Are you okay? "

Embarrassed you put your hand away from his warm ones and answer while smiling, not making eye contact

"It's okay I'm fine these kind of injuries are meant to happen if you work in a bar." Jungkook not convinced took your hand again now keeping it infront of him not letting you pull it back. His eyebrows knitted . "You were totally fine this evening tell me what happened". Chewing on your bottom lip you look down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N tell me what happened.." Jungkook says once again this time his voice laced with concern as his hands caressed your hair. You were actually a bit taken aback at how the always dominant voice of Jungkook is making its way to you in a concerned and soft way.

"A drunk guy harshly pulled my hand wanting me to sit beside him but I fought back and he suddenly let go of me making me loose my balance at hit the edge of the glass table behind and that's how I got this"

You say while looking at your bandaged hand which was now resting in jungkook's warm palm. He softly held your injured hand and lower down a bit to meet your height. Looking at your eyes he said

"Tell me who did this. Tell me who did this to you I'm gonna fucking kill him"

In a calm soft voice but the last part obviously didn't come out in a soft way. You laughed and pushed him a bit away from you. "It's okay am fine don't overreact he was drunk" But Jungkook not buying the answer walked closer to you and again with a serious tone asked you . "Tell me how he looked like"

Knowing that he won't let go of the topic unless you give him a proper answer you sigh, rolling your eyes while describing the drunk man you happened to meet inside the club. "He had small eyes , a sharp nose and dark stubble on his face and.." You trailed off thinking what else did the man have but Jungkook interrupted asking in a quick manner

"Did he have any sort of tattoo on his wrist? " Replaying the moment inside your head you widen your eyes a bit and nod your head, "Yea he did.. Was that a crown? A crown maybe"

Exactly knowing who that drunk man you encountered was Jungkook's chest sank at the thought that the old man touched you with his dirty hands. Gulping down the saliva that formed in his mouth he without thinking pulled you to his chest engulfing you in a hug. He wasn't sure why he felt like protecting you but he wanted to . He wasn't supposed to feel this way now that he set his mind on the plan his brain made up on the way here but..he did. He wanted to make sure you were safe.

Widening your eyes at how Jungkook suddenly hugged you, your mind went blank. There's no doubt in how fast your heart was beating. To be honest to yourself you were actually frightened when that man tried touching you in an ill manner but now being in Jungkook's arms you felt safe. You felt safe when he was around. Jungkook's arms around you got tighter as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

So this is how you gonna play it Mr. Choi

He thinks.

•-

Flashback 5 weeks back

Stretching your arms you give out a small yawn before grabbing the books from the table and making your way out of the auditorium. Walking while looking at your  surroundings you didn't notice the tall man standing infront of you. Too immersed in the same old paintings hanging on the walls you hit something hard making the copies and books in your hands fall down. Without looking up at the person you bumped into you quickly said 'sorry' while kneeling down to pick up your supplies. The tall gentleman kneeled down too helping you with picking up your stationerys. You got up, the man following you soon. This time facing the guy properly as both of you made eye contact you were about to say thank you when your voice abruptly decided to not come out.

The man had soft long black hair .The kind of hair you would want to play with all day. His baby doe eyes staring at you, his lips parted. The oversized hoodie he was wearing made him the grizzly huggable bear image more.

As your eyes scanned him from head to toe, your lips a bit parted, the guy not being able to control his laughter at how cute you looked when your eyes went big as if you saw something really interesting and you'd like to study that thing more, he gave out small giggles making you quickly close your mouth and look at him. Noticing how every students in tha hall were staring at both of you, you shifted your weight from one leg to another leg uncomfortably. But the guy's Adorable bunny smile didn't go out of your notice. His eyes wrinkled as he tilted his face and asked you softly

"You okay? "

Blinking couple of times you nodded your head making him shyly scratch his nape and mumble 'thank god'. Your lips automatically curved up when your eyes landed on the ID card hung around his neck

"Jeon Jungkook"

Once realization hit you that you were now standing infront of your college's hearthrob while looking like a whole mess which you didn't care about that much until you bumped into him, your cheeks got tinted in a light blush. Pulling your lips in you tilted your head a bit to the side making your baby hairs fall over your face.

"Hey kook!"

A loud deep voice entered the ears of the people standing in the hall making them turn their heads to the two seniors waving their hands at Jungkook's direction, a big wide smile plastered know their face. Jungkook takes out his bracelet covered wrist from his pocket and waves at them. Jimin running towards us and wrapping his arm around the tall guy's shoulders he notices me and flashes me a smile

"Hey Y/N"

Waving your sweater paw at him as a hey you smiled. You met Jimin and Taehyung a couple of times before in some group works with seniors. You not really interested in gossips of the college noticed just a few days ago that Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are the well known hot trio of this college.

"Y/N.."

Jungkook repeats your name to himself before looking at you once again , smiling while saying

"Sweet name"

His sweet honey voice saying your name was enough to melt you. If it was any other guy right now you would have simply said thank you for helping you pick up the books and walk away without saying anything but surprisingly Jeon Jungkook made you stop. "I'm hungry didn't have breakfast this morning" Taehyung whines while holding his tummy earning a slap on his head from Jimin. "we are going for lunch wanna join us? "

Jungkook asks you making you widen your eyes at the sudden invitation and Jungkook earning some smirks from the seniors beside him, Jimin elbowing his arm while wiggling his eyebrows. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes at his hyungs before looking at you for a reply. You glancing at your silver wrist watch said "I would love to but I should get going. I have some stuffs to do"

Jungkook quietly nods his head before flashing you a smile.

Is he always smiling?

You thought noticing that he had been smiling since the moment both of you met. "Y/N's always studying hard"

Taehyung says earning a nod from Jimin making you shyly scratch your nape.

The Brunnete haired approached you giving you a pat on your shoulder before saying "Study well but don't forget to have lunch okay? "

You flashed him a smile while nodding. Jungkook waving his hands at you as a 'bye' walked past you with the two boys. You looked back at three of them noticing that two of them were wearing hoodies and one of them were wearing full sleeved tees.

It's so hot these days why are they wearing hoodies on top of tees?

Shaking your head you quickened your pace and quickly got out of the college grounds. Walking to the bus stand while looking around at the cozy coffee shops on the streets you keep glancing at your watch from time to time to make sure that you're going on time or not.

Now here's a secret about you that no one knows

You're a student at an art college but you are also a student at a law school. Your father runs the family business of electronics. Yes the electronics company ranking the second best in the country out of all the other electronic companies, which he wants to hand over to your big brother after he retires. Your mother always wanted a child of her to be a sculptor. Borning late in the family with the talent of art you were forced to study this subject whereas you were interested in prosecution, catching criminals and stuffs. What you were most interested in were being a mafia or an assassin but you gave up on those dreams and decided to study law. Your parents only giving their all attention and care to their first born, didn't care about you that much. The only thing they wanted from you was becoming a great sculptor and bringing praise to your family.

After nights of confusion and judgement you decided to study in the law school that you got admitted, secretly with the money your grandparents left you. Your grandparents left some money for you and your brother before passing away and thankfully they were enough to pay for your study books expenses. But maintaining time for your law school as well as the art school was hard but you managed to make time after dropping off from some extra courses of the art college without telling your parents. But it was hectic. Your college hours starts from 7 am. And you have classes till 9am then a break at 9:15 am to 10:30 due to dropping off from some extra class. Your law classes starts from 9:30 so during the break you quickly leave the grounds and head off to the law classes. Then you return to the art college at 10:20 when it's a break at your law school. Then once again when it's a lunch break at the art school you head off to the law school while munching on some snacks, obviously not getting time to have proper lunch. And when it comes to events you had to make up excuses at the law school for not attending as your parents would obviously not skip their daughter's presentations.

It would be more hectic from today cuz you just applied to a job at a night club. There's a course for learning shooting at the law school but you don't have enough money to pay for that so it's time to earn some money.

•••

Stretching your arms while getting up from the seat you had been sitting on straight for 2 hours, you give a yawn before taking out a scrunchie and putting your hair up. All the classes for the day are done. Putting the back pack around your shoulder you bow at the teacher before leaving the school premises. Walking inside the bus and sitting on one of the seat you take out your phone and start typing to your mother , 'Mom I'll be late tonight as I got some extra lessons. Don't worry for me and you don't have to send car I'll come by bus'

"No one's gonna worry about me though"

You say to yourself while letting out a small laugh and looking out at the window. Everything vanishing from your sight at a fast pace as the vehicle picks up its speed upon seeing the empty road. Some of the street lights flickering due to not being fixed for several days now. You take out the 'guideline' paper of the bar you're gonna work in from backpack, going through the structure of the building in your mind and remembering all the rules explained to you yesterday when you went to apply for the job. This night club only seemed to be safe for you to work in now. By safe means you would have no worries of the common students who spends time in bars and clubs to see you. If anyone recognizes you then it's game over. Plus the pay is high too.

The phone screen lighting up as a notification popped up you unlocked the phone before seeing from whom the text is from.

Bro: heard you're coming late at night should I pick you up from the way while coming home?

"Geez already told him?"

You say to yourself once realizing that your mom told your brother to pick up but your brother being nice asked if you want to be picked up first or not. Smiling at his text before typing your reply It's ok you don't have to come. The office is far away from my college anyways. Get home safely.

Waiting for a few minutes to see his reply which you didn't get you turned off your phone and put it inside your bag. Looking out from the window thinking why he didn't reply when he saw your text whereas usually he would try to come pick you up, being the 'protective' brother. You got down from the bus as soon as the bus came to its stop. You walked for a few more minutes from the bus stop till arriving at your destination.

Hell's night club

•••

It's been only five minutes of you serving drinks but you're already tired. How can a human body and mind work for 13 hours straight without any rest. You did mess up some tables a couple of times for which you were now getting a scolding from the manager. You looking down bowing slightly while your hands in front of you.

"Miss Lee Y/N did you properly see the table numbers today? "

The old man asks to which you nod. "Then why are you messing up? " He asks in a raised voice making you flinch and quickly mumble a sorry. You lift your head up a bit to see the old man sighing while pinching his forehead, clearly visible that he's angry. "I'm letting you go as this is your first time don't make mistakes anymore"

He says making you bow and say

"Thank you"

He looked around trying to see if any waitresses are free. Sighing at how there's no one free without counting you he gave you a look before handing you a tray of various kinds of drinks. "Take this to table no. 14. And  do not  make any mistakes. They are regulars here I don't want them gone" Nodding at him you set off to find this table no. 14 . Noticing how your skirt got up a bit you tried pulling the skirt a bit down with one hand as the other one was holding the tray, you quickly withdraw your hand without fixing the skirt upon seeing the tray tremble in one hand. Quickly holding the tray in place and scanning if any drinks were spilled, you sigh in relief. You looked back to only lock eyes with the manager . He staring straight at you with his cold eyes. You gave a small awkward smile and walked towards table 14.

The table no. 14 seemed to be surrounded by many big men. All had some sort of tattoos on them. A familiar man sitting in the middle holding a pen and scribbling something on a notebook. His inked arms full on display as the silver earrings were still being able to shine despite the dullness in the scene. His long bangs falling before his eyes not letting anyone see the face beneath it.

You quietly approached the table and when you raised your eyes from the ground to the man sitting in the middle, your legs automatic came to a halt and your breath hitched.

Jeon Jungkook right there was sitting. The table in front occupied with various weapons and him sitting like a whole five course meal, fingers playing with the dangly earrings

This is totally not what I expected

[itsclydebitches]

Hey there! Admittedly I'm a little bit nervous since this is my first ask, but I'll try to not be too rambly.

So, recently the main subreddit, r/RWBY, made a ban on active users of the r/RWBYcritics subreddit. As a result there's been discussion around bad-faith criticism in the latter subreddit. What are your takes on bad-faith criticism?

For me personally, I think a bunch of people are misusing the term "bad-faith" and using it as a way to shut down criticism, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.

Hey there, everyone! We woke up to some drama this morning, huh? And hello to you too, Tortoise! I'm so glad you decided to send in an ask, even if it's following some pretty tumultuous events...

Right, I'd like to start with a story. The story of how I personally don't spend time on Reddit, but I have plenty of friends who will occasionally cross-post something for me to see. Yesterday (or the day before? Idk time is meaningless) a friend told me about a post — which, significantly, I'm now having trouble finding — that covers RWBY's inconsistent writing and the fandom's tendency to try and explain away those missteps. They'd thought I'd be interested because I'd just had a conversation here on tumblr where I made that exact point to someone who, also significantly, vehemently disagreed with me, but in a very civil fashion. Given everything going on, I feel like this side point needs emphasis: we debated, we did so in a sometimes heated, but nevertheless respectful manner, it was clear neither of us was going to sway the other, and the conversation ended. The two "sides" of the community interacted without Armageddon coming about.

But back to the purpose of this tale. I went to take a look at this point and found that it no longer exists. There's just some vague message about it not obeying the subreddit's rules. "What happened?" I asked. "Why'd they take the post down?" "People were getting too heated in the comments," my friend replies. So, given that the comments were still visible, I proceeded to read through them, expecting personal attacks, slurs, harassment, etc. Any number of things that would justify deleting the post itself to put an end to such behavior. Instead, I found a thread of people having a conversation. Was the conversation heated at times? Sure. Did one or two individual posters edge into the realm of petulant, "No. You're wrong and stupid" responses? Yes. Was any of this remotely what I was expecting given the post's removal? NOPE.

"This isn't allowed?" I said. "Well then what is? People were being civil! Or at least as civil as hundreds of strangers ever get when discussing a series they're passionate about online."

Then, this morning, I hear that the entire critic subreddit has been banned.

So to answer your question, Tortoise, I don't actually think that "good faith" criticism exists. Meaning, it's not just that fans are misusing the term "bad faith criticism," but rather that there is no unified, agreed up method of writing criticism that will meet their standards. It's not possible and we know it's not possible because fans have been trying to meet those elusive standards for years:

A fan posts nothing but praise for RWBY until changes make them criticize the show as it is now. Their entire body of work is dismissed as the product of a "hater," despite the overwhelming gap between positive and negative reviews.

A fan posts a review that's a pretty balanced mix between praise and criticism. They're dismissed because it's still too much criticism.

A fan posts a review that's 99% praise with 1% criticism. That's still too much, with fans focusing on the single problem they had with the work and using it as an excuse to dismiss the entire review out of hand.

(As an aside, the argument that critics are "obsessed" with only saying negative things and that the only problem here is that they're "too" negative ignores the argument that... RWBY has a lot of flaws nowadays. Few are willing to acknowledge the possibility that it's not fans insisting on making things up to be mad about/ignoring the good parts of the show, it's the that show is, as of now, legitimately more of a mess than it is a praise-worthy product. If I'd been writing recaps in the Volumes 1-4 days, my work would have been skewed far more towards the positive. The critics' stance is that RWBY has gotten worse, which yes, results a higher volume of critical posts. To say nothing of how criticism takes far longer to explain, likewise resulting in posts focused primarily on that side of the divide. I really enjoyed the image of a crying Jaune reflected in his sword. I did not enjoy that moment's context. Saying that you liked an animation choice is a one sentence thing. Explaining the complexities of Jaune securing emotional moments, the problems with Penny's second death, the hurt many fans experienced watching an assisted suicide, etc. takes a whooole lot longer. Hence, you get massive, multiple posts about these nuanced topics and fewer, smaller posts about the details that are working well.)

A fan talks about a topic that has been metaphorically banned by the fandom as a whole. They have something good to say about Ironwood. They dislike something about Blake/Yang. They enjoyed Adam as a character. They have a problem with Ruby's leadership, etc. There's a whole list of topics nowadays that will result in an automatic dismissal, regardless of the point the fan is trying to make or how well they make it.

A fan talks about the minority representation of RWBY — its black characters, its queer characters, its disabled characters, etc. — and as a result has something to say about the biases and missteps of those writing these characters. This is considered an attack on the writers and, therefore, automatically bad.

A fan talks about how they enjoyed RWBY as it was years ago and is having trouble reconciling the dark, complicated story with the simple, hopeful one we started out with. This is seen as an attack on Monty's vision and an unwillingness to accept that "everything is planned."

A fan does as asked and ensures that their post is meeting all the requirements of "real" criticism. They have an argument to make. They have a point. They provide evidence. They recommend a solution. They keep their tone respectful. They don't attack the creators. They provide disclaimers in every single paragraph about how they do not hate RWBY. It doesn't matter. They're considered too negative.

I have, quite literally, seen every one of the above examples on multiple occasions. I have had many of the above accusations leveled at my own work. When fans say that they're fine with criticism provided it's not "bad faith" criticism, they don't actually have a specific post-type in mind; a checklist of behaviors another fan can emulate and, provided they do that, no hate will come their way. Or, if an individual fan does actually go, "Yeah. That criticism I'm fine with" that response is in no way universal. One person's "They make a good, civil point" is another person's, "Omg stop bashing the show!" Because "bashing" has come to mean everything from curse-laden insults towards everything RWBY has ever done, to posts that just happen to say something other fans don't agree with.

It's a rigged game. There is no way to post criticism about RWBY in an agreed-upon, appropriate manner. This recent ban is proof of that. I think it's incredibly telling that almost immediately after I was going, "Wow. A pretty calm debate about the flaws of RWBY in the main sub. That's great to see," all posters from the criticism subreddit were banned. The main sub literally just had the sort of criticism that they claim to accept — people respectfully posting analysis-based arguments resulting in calm debate — and yet they implemented the ban anyway. I'm not going to pretend that I've never gotten too heated on my own posts, never made snarky comments when I'm frustrated, never used exaggerated reaction GIFs that can come across as insulting... but I'd say on the whole my RWBY work is precisely the sort of "good faith" criticism that other fans are supposedly looking for. I never make an argument I don't think I can back up with evidence. I try to allow for the nuance and differing opinions of complicated topics. I try — even if I don't always succeed — to write in a clear, respectful manner. Yet none of that work has stopped people from telling me I'm a "bitter... raging asshole," a "deranged, delusional psychopath," telling me to set myself on fire, threatening to smash my head in, or just messages to straight up kill myself. If someone like me who legitimately works hard to create fair, defendable criticism and who only ever posts on a personal blog that people can easily block, who never engages in debate until someone else starts it first, never seeks out other fans I disagree with to harass them about what they like... if someone like me is still a "bad faith" critic who "deserves" that kind of hate mail... then what kind of criticism do people want?

Nothing. That's the answer. No criticism whatsoever, of any kind, no matter if it's delivered respectfully, is making a good point, whatever. That's why "RWDE" was created. That's why the critic subreddit was created. The community at large has demanded a complete separation between Praise and Anything That's Not 100% Praise, which has now resulted in this ban. Any other explanations we see are excuses, which becomes glaringly obvious when you look at the mods' supposed reasons for implementing the ban:

"Constant arguments with r/RWBY users" - As opposed to the arguments surrounding things like shipping that never, ever happen?

"Vote manipulation and comment brigades" - The subreddit with 3,000 participants, with around 200 on at a time, is manipulating the votes of a subreddit with 155,000 participants, with over 1,000 on at a time? Those numbers just do not check out. If a positive post is downvoted, or a critical post upvoted, maybe that's because large swaths of the community actually agree/disagree with that assessment, not because the incredibly smaller group is somehow manipulating things.

"Attacking and harassing those they disagree with" — Again, as opposed to those non-critics that never, ever harass people? This is an individual problem, not a community problem. Both critics and non-critics have their sub-groups acting in ways they shouldn't. If anything, the main sub will have more individuals harassing other fans, simply by virtue of being so much larger. As the above examples attest, it's not other critics who have told me to light myself on fire and, just to be clear, the asks I've responded to are a miniscule number compared to the amount I've received. I delete the lion's share for my own sanity and to save my followers from reading the really graphic threats.

"Months-long NSFL spam brigades" — I am, admittedly, not sure what this is referring to. Spamming of NSFW content? If so, that's also an individual problem.

"Homophobic, transphobic, and racist attacks towards our users" — See the above points. Again. If someone is being homophobic, transphobic, or racist, then yes please, ban them. Don't ban an entire community for the actions of a few. It's like walking into a store and banning a customer for causing a scene... but then also banning everyone else who happened to be shopping at the same time. It's guilt by association.

The silver lining to all this? The community as a whole isn't pleased. At least according to the main subreddit comments and a few individual voices like MurderofBirds. Despite the increase (from my perspective anyway) of critical voices post-Volume 8, criticism of RWBY is still very much seen as taboo. As this ban showcases. But it's really reassuring to see so many fans, critics and non-critics alike, going, "This was a mistake." A community is meant to include all aspects of engagement: praise, criticism, and the gray area between. If anything, fans like the mods of the main subreddit should be creating a separate subreddit that is specifically for praise. In the same way that there should have been a tag for RWBY praise, rather than trying to eliminate any and all criticism from the main "RWBY" tag. The majority of fans, even those who claim to hate critics and all they (presumably) stand for, recognize that a blanket ban of all criticism is not the way to go, especially when "criticism" has come to have such a staggeringly broad definition. If you want your RWBY experience to be nothing but sunshine and roses (ha), then cultivate your own internet experience to reflect that. Create your own pockets with rules about how this is the space for praise and if you're not up for praising RWBY right now, don't interact with us in this particular space. Don't try to make the entire community — the main tools used to discuss the show online — conform to your preferences. As established, there is no "good" criticism that everyone in the fandom will accept, which just leaves a fandom with no criticism at all. I'm glad to see I'm far from the only one who, when presented with that extreme, is going, "Nope. No thank you."

[alo-piss-trancy]

Ok hi, I didn't wanna say anything, but please don't write knifeplay/bloodplay for Yuri. I def don't wanna spoil anything, but it's learned on a certain route that Yuri has a s*lf h*rm problem (I'll leave it at that).

You honestly seem like you're not trying to be a jerk with this ask, so I'm going to do my best to answer this as politely as possible without compromising my personal beliefs on the matter. This is going to be long and a little serious, but please note I'm not attacking you or trying to start a debate. I'm just laying all my thoughts on this down at once so I make myself clear, because a short answer would leave a lot of nuance out.

I understand what you're trying to do here. For the record though, I also considered that a pretty massive spoiler and I did not appreciate that at all. Even if you all think you're 'helping', don't do that again. Y/uri was pretty much the only character I'd managed to avoid most spoilers on and you killed the surprise for me. This game is already so full of fluffy 'filler' in the beginning that I don't have a ton of big plot points to look forward to in each route.

Now, I realise this is a very delicate topic and incredibly triggering to some people, especially with those two things combined. I am 100% willing to tag it with just about any variation needed to ensure you or others affected can blacklist/block it and never have to see a word of it in the future. I'd also be happy to go back and tag that original text post I made if needed. I mean that. You all are welcome to ask me to tag things anytime, and so long as you're polite about it I'm perfectly willing to oblige to the best of my ability in future posts! If I occasionally forget, just toss me a light reminder and I'll jump into editing and add it in.

That said, I want to make it clear that I am very firmly against censorship. I'm willing to take all necessary precautions to ensure people can curate their experiences on this blog and AO3, but at the end of the day I can still post whatever fictional stuff I choose to. As can anyone else. Same goes for more formally published media.

Now, it's entirely possible I would have gotten to that part of the game and decided 'oh dang, I'm not so enthused about that fic idea anymore...'. My whims and ideas change frequently, and what you mentioned is a heavy topic with a lot to unpack and process. It's also entirely possible that future plot would only provide more fuel.

Fyi, when I originally mentioned the knifeplay I was actually thinking a lot more along the lines of her doing it to the protagonist, not the reverse. But for the record, if I did choose to write it with focus on Y/uri, I would still be well within my rights to.

This next part of my answer is going to address some heavy topics, this is your warning!!!

Sometimes people's kinks are a way to take a thing that is personally scary or upsetting to them and find a way to reverse it. To find pleasure or power or get used to the idea of the awful thing in a safe, controlled fashion. I'm not going to go into the full details on this because there's plenty of explanation and research elsewhere already written up, as well as an excellent book on the subject, and I'm not turning this blog into a discourse debate. But I needed to mention it for my point.

There are plenty of stories that could be explored with Y/uri in this context. Did she have this kink before the self harm events started and it was completely unrelated, or did she develop it afterwards? How did she discover it beforehand? If developed afterwards, did it start out as another way of harming mixed with pleasure in a self-destructive way, often done sloppily and without proper technique? Or was it strictly used as almost exposure therapy to deal with those urges and thoughts in a safer, more contained scenario, maybe even allowing the partner she trusted to wield the knife to prove their bond/reinforce that she can be loved without being hurt deeply, that she is worthy of affection and trust and loyalty. Maybe this finally helps give Y/uri a tool to embrace her 'weirdness' without harming herself and others. Or, what if she thinks it can be a useful tool and is sure she's ready, but partway through the scene she gets triggered or has flashbacks... how does she deal with it? How does her partner? Can it be overcome with effort, research, and taking things slowly, or does she realize this kink is actually completely off the table for her?

What if she has this kink and is excited to try it, but her partner isn't? How does she take that rejection? Or do her poor social skills mean she skipped negotiation to begin with and attempted it in the middle of a vanilla session? Would her partner freak out or even get mad, or try to swallow their fear and let her do it so they don't hurt/offend her, even at the cost of their own comfort?

This topic also opens a ton of potential plots for darkfic, but I'll refrain from discussing that out of respect for you and others.

So as you can see, there's much more to explore than 'Knife=Hot'. I believe those discussions and ideas are necessary and provide important fuel for thought when explored fictionally, especially since mainstream media doesn't cover a lot of them.

~~~

I feel I should take a second to clarify knifeplay for those who may be unaware. It doesn't always equate to actual cutting/drawing blood. That can be an aspect, but usually only by those far more experienced and, you know, actually into that. A lot of participants don't actually go that far. Mostly, it's either about the physical sensation of the knife touching you at all, or the adrenaline/controlled fear and intimate trust of a partner bringing an object like that so close/teasing you with it.

In fact, it's frequently advised in those circles (especially to newcomers) to use a dull butterknife instead, because it simulates the same feelings of metal on skin/can dig in a little without any real risk of cutting/drawing blood. Even if one chooses to use a different knife, it's still pretty common to dull the blade, or some people even substitute with a closed pair of scissors (combined with the partner blindfolded, you can't really tell it apart from the real thing).

These versions of knifeplay are well controlled and ultimately pretty harmless, so long as both parties know what they're doing and stay alert. And more experienced players with sharper knives are even more cautious/have studied extensively to know where/how deep to go without risking scarring/serious injury.

Remember the golden rules of kink: Safe. Sane. Consensual.

With those in place, it is not nearly the same as self harm. Just as controlled, consensual, well-negotiated BDSM with safewords, respected boundaries and a trusted partner is never in the same league as abuse.

~~~

Now that that's out of the way, back to my point:

There's no perfect representation or narrative for everyone, in any group (be that gender/sexuality/triggered by certain things, etc). Every human being is different, everyone interprets media differently, and everyone takes away different elements from stories.

What one person in a particular group may find cathartic, relateable, or painful but necessary food for thought, another may find completely repulsive, personally hurtful, offensive, something they can't stand to hear. And guess what? Both of those can be true at the same time. One side is not immediately right over the other.

There are queer characters or interpretations of them in fics that I vehemently despise, might even find hurtful or sickening and think 'how can anyone create this, it's insufferable! People in 'my group' aren't like that, it's a horrible representation. I can't relate to it at all!' But you know what? Other people can and do, may find comfort in those exact narratives and experiences, may heal their pain instead of inflicting more. And that's great. It's what they needed or wanted and if I don't like it, I click away and do my best to avoid it.

There are specific tropes and narrative themes I personally cannot get through without being triggered into anxiety attacks or dragged back to bad times and places in my life. Sometimes I see them tackled in ways that are hurtful or seem insensitive to me. But I recognise that for someone else, it's exactly what they needed to see to get through that or come to terms with it, or see a way they wish that thing could play out. I would never dream of telling those people they aren't allowed to enjoy it, OR telling the creator of that piece of media or a tv show 'Hey ummm please don't use this plot because it turns me into a human wreck for a week'. Because it's not remotely my place to do so. They can create whatever they want, they have no responsibility towards me or my well being. A few might be kind enough to include a warning at the beginning of that episode or in the description, but they are in no way required to. It's up to me to curate my experience and try to keep my guard up/research what might have those tropes, and in the rare occasions I get blindsided, yeah, it hurts like hell. I struggle, I might even backslide a bit. But I just have to try my best to deal with it and make a note to be more careful next time. Because you can't control the world around you, not even the online world, and you have absolutely no right to. The only right you have is to protect yourself without infringing on other people's boundaries/rights.

And there's also another important point. There doesn't have to be a big important point or explanation for why a creator creates something, or why consumers can enjoy that creation! If someone wants to create a plotline with all of my triggers used in the most 'insensitive', 'wrong', pointless ways possible, strictly for Entertainment or pure kink material instead of some deep dissection of the issues involved? They can go hog wild!!! They are 100% allowed to do so on this earth, and I can't (and wouldn't want to) do a thing to stop them.

One person can read a kink fic and it hits a very emotional theme for them/they think it explores a deep topic well. Another person can read that same fic and get nothing out of it except their rocks off. Both of those readers are completely equal and 'allowed' to enjoy that fic. Both reasons are completely valid reasons for why the creator was 'allowed' to post/create that fic in the first place. Nobody needs permission, nobody has to answer to anybody except themselves. Period. This extends to any topic, any type of fic.

Yes, even for things I find absolutely abhorrent and insensitive and don't understand/want to read ever. I may resent everything about its existence, but I will defend to death the creator's right to make it exist in the first place.

It only affects me if I let it affect me. If someone's making content I despise or am upset by and can't handle, I can choose to ignore or avoid them, blacklist those tags, I can block them and move on with my day. I can do anything within my own bubble, but the second I consider going into their bubble and saying they can't make that thing, I am in the wrong. Because I'm not respecting their space and rights.

If someone makes cookies with ingredients I'm highly allergic to, pastes the ingredient warnings all over the box where I read them, and I still eat one, would anyone cheer me on for blaming them when I have a reaction? Would anyone think it was remotely okay of me to start calling up every bakery in town and saying they weren't allowed to bake those cookies EVER, because some people somewhere might be allergic?

No. They'd tell me I was crossing the line, because I'm infringing on other people's boundaries and lives. I'm expecting everybody else to take responsibility for something that, while horrible and painful, was my fault for touching.

Now, if someone sets out unlabelled cookies not realizing I'm allergic to something in them, and I eat it and have a reaction, that sucks. It's an awful experience. But is it the baker's fault? As long as they didn't do it maliciously, not really. They can be advised politely to label it in the future, and I can do my best to remember to ask/be more cautious next time I come across something I'm unsure of, but they're still allowed to bake those cookies for themselves and others.

Now, if I deliberately baked cookies with an ingredient that people are very frequently allergic to (ex. peanuts) and set it out in a crowded buffet without a warning label, that's a jerk move. That's intentionally trying to cause harm to others. But simply baking that flavour of cookies still isn't a crime or harmful by itself.

~~~

I'll be honest, I'm running out of steam and I think I've said most of what I have to say, so I'll wrap it up. I want to reiterate that I'm not ripping into you with this long answer, anon! I understand why you sent me what you did and I'm trying not to come off as harsh. I'm happy to go back and tag things and will tag anything else similar in the future!!! But at the end of the day, regardless of whether I personally end up writing that fic or not, or even want to after I get to that plot, I don't agree with telling anyone they can't/shouldn't write it at all. I wanted to try and explain my viewpoint thoroughly, and I hope you can respect that, just as I'll respect and try to accommodate you and other followers. This is the only time I'll really get up on a soapbox like this, and I have no interest in debating these things on my blog further, but it is a topic I've been passionate about all my life so I'm afraid I'm not budging on it.