#until I actually get to WRITING things

[mamawasatesttube]

the whole "jason rules crime alley and none of the other bats are allowed there!!1!" thing is so funny like. tim LITERALLY lives in the theater where bruce's parents died,

[bloggerspam]

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[redbean-nom]

Cadets

(aka trash children, chaos children, and children who understand 98 is getting graded on this)

Inspired by @thefoundationproject! Closeups under the cut:

jesse got this pic from jangotat:

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[courtrecord]

honestly i hate how that “maybe the curtains are just blue” post has become shorthand for anti-intellectualism and shit bc as someone who has an utter passion for media analysis now, I WAS THAT PERSON IN HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH CLASS.

english class never taught me how to analyze stories, it taught me how to remember what things the teacher said were “symbolism” and how to take quizzes where we had to match a quote to the character who said it. i didn’t give a shit about any of it, bc literally why should i. it was bullshit.

there’s this idea online that people are forgetting or rejecting what they learned in english class when they’re bad at media analysis, and maybe that’s a little bit true, but i think the much bigger problem is they never learned it in the first place. cinemasins & “maybe the curtains are just blue” aren’t convincing people to abandon an intellectualism they already had, they’re filling a void.

when all you learn in high school is to write on the test “blue = depression”, why is it surprising that so many people don’t give a shit about the curtains.

[ghost-proofbaby]

okay no but bbf!perv!eddie unable to stop his hand from lingering a liiiitttle too long on your skin after he slaps the tattoo. obv he cant do anything too rough (although he would give anything to just be able to dig his fingers in to the soft skin there), but that's almost WORSE because instead you're aware of every one of his fingers on your overly sensitive skin, the warmth of his palm against your stinging ass, both soothing and burning at the same time

he doesn't even realise he's doing it, and you peek over your shoulder and nearly get a jumpscare at just how intense he looks - eyes fixed on where he's touching you, the boy is practically vibrating from holding himself back

HELPPPPPP

he should probably pull away.

he knows he should. he’s well aware his touch has long out-lingered its welcome on your warm skin. but he can’t. he tells his hand to drop, to come back to him, to just fall anywhere else but your ass — all his fingers do in response are curl into the flesh, feeling the soft muscle beneath his joints and his breath catch painfully between his ribs.

all he can do is squeeze softly and stare at where his skin is meeting yours. all he can do is continue to take abnormally deep breaths, teetering on the verge of gasping as his stare starts to burn hotter than where he’d slapped your skin.

“e-eddie?”

you’re all nervous laughter and wide eyes, and it almost makes it worse when you stutter out his name. somewhere between a plea and a sigh, falling between the raveens of asking him to stop touching you and begging him to never stop.

“sorry,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t move.

“can you…” can you move your hand? can you stop driving me insane? can you stop looking at me like some helpless prey and igniting this damned warmth in my belly that is 10 seconds from turning this entire friendship to ash? “can you do it again?”

eddie munson’s heart officially stops. the last and hardest beat of it echoes in his silent chest and he’s looking up at you wildly, stunned, quietly. for the first time since he’s met you, his tongue has become a foreign and heavy object not fit for his instruction.

and you take his silence as a no. you take his silence as you pushing too far and projecting one too many fantasie onto him for a final time. you take his lack of response as a you just fucked everything up, idiot.

“i’m- fuck, i’m sorry,” you start, “forget i ask-“

“again?”

his hand finally moves, and it’s trailing down now, fingers dancing along the back of your thigh in unsure movements. not ready to no longer feel you. not ready to leave the moment.

piqued interest, palpable curiosity, buzzing eagerness — there’s not one sliver of disgust in his tone.

it’s the only reason you’re brave enough to wear a fragile smile as you nod, cheek lowering to the pillow as you say it more surely this time, “again.”

this time, the slap is more deliberate.

and this time, it lands where you want it. between the apex of your thighs, stinging in a way far more pleasurable than before, making you cry out a bit more surely this time.

maybe it’s his sudden smirk. maybe it’s his dark eyes. or maybe it’s that goddamn tent in his pants and the wet spot he can’t hide from you.

yeah. he’ll do it again. he’ll do it as many times as you ask for it, because this time, he gets it.

you both get it.

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[chirpsythismorning]

Yeah a teaser dropping on ST day would be cool. But can we agree that a DNA board reveal would be infinitely better?

[fatedroses]

Many things were used to describe the mad hermit of Amaurot: a drunkard, degenerate, cynical, and even monstrous by those who stirred trouble for the newly appointed Azem. But nothing could prepare Emet-Selch for what he would see for himself, when offered a chance to meet the Sun's Shadow.

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

hmm expanding on this a bit rn cuz the scene is soo in my mind rn and i just wanna play it out sm dhbdudhdh

~~

There was a flash. Blinding white light where everyone was floating in less than a second and longer than eternity. Nothing existed. Nothing exists.

Stan is face planted on the ground now, and the place is a wreck. Things are scrambled in his head, with white noise practically on his tongue and even without his hearing aid on the fritz, sound is nothing but a thin line ring. It takes him a moment to register there's dirt in his mouth, and on his face. That he's the one face planted onto the dirt. Dipper's talking, and he pushes himself up to look. The portal's still on. Even though the rest of the husk is pretty much destroyed with sparks flying from every wire , the portal is still on. It worked. It worked!

Even better— a dark shadow that looks like it's walking away from the glowing light is approaching. Exiting the portal, no, entering their world again. Stan doesn't need to see their face to know who it is, his chest swelling inside at the billions of emotions running through his mind. He can't hope, but he does. He knows who it is. He knows it's true.

The figure walks out, stepping onto the dirt ground with a strong presence.

Ford!

"Brother," Stan gasps, and there's dirt in his eyes making it sting. Stan stands up, the reunion speech on his tongue finally coming to use when Ford stops, right infront of the entrance. He's looking back, not even paying attention to Stan, his whole arm still stuck in the entrance. Stan stops from approaching, looking confused while Ford is seemingly tugging at something from behind the portal, speaking loudly but Stan can't hear it.

"Ford?"

Ford twists, then jumps right back into the portal. Stan's heart drops, then he panics, running to the portal again.

"No no no! Stanford!" He can't stop running, the distance between him and his brother too wide again. He can't lose him again! Not after everything he did! He prepares to hop into the bright white hole too until he feels tiny bodies land on his back, pushing him off his feet and face first into the ground again. He cranes his head up, eyes glued on the portal, heart running miles while the children pin him with their weight. Dread makes his blood go cold when the portal flicks like a faulty lightbulb.

"Kids! Let me go, please!"

"Grunkle Stan, calm down!"

"You can't go in there—"

"I don't care!" He has no time for this! He almost throws them off his back when he feels a heavier weight join them, then hold him up by the arms, apologies from Soos filling the air for sure but Stan can't hear any of it.

He's stuck. The light flickers again. No. No! "Kids, please!" Stan kicks and tries to punch and struggles, his veins about to burst. They're yelling at him but he just can't hear. He's watching in horror when the light blinks rapidly again, no sign of Stanford coming back. Fuck. FUCK.

It can't be like this. It just can't! Thirty years of his life, and a whole nother decade of pain, for nothing? Nothing? How could Ford jump back in? What the hell could be on the other side that's more important than his home, his planet, his brother? Stan had so many plans— he had everything he wanted to say.

He's sorry for pushing him in. He missed Ford like his dying breath relied on it. He's sorry for the project. He wants to hold Ford and kiss him until it is his dying breath. And Ford would thank him— thank him for doing everything he could to bring him back despite it all. He loves him too, never stopped just like Stan. Ford would've done the same for him.

The portal blinks, turns white to gray. Getting dimmer and transparent by the second. No!

No.

No...

Stan grits his teeth, ready for his whole life to mean absolutely fucking nothing while his family holds him back from following the love of his life one more time, for fucking good. He's sobbing maybe, not like Stan can reallh tell where all the salt in his mouth came from with the blurry vision he gets.

This is it.

Then the portal spits out a— two dark clad bodies then shuts down completely, nothing but a regular hole in its triangle body. Stan doesn't give a shit. He gives out the biggest heave of relief in his entire life.

After the whole business with the CIA, with Dipper, Mabel and Soos, with fucking everything over the last four decades, his old heart just can't take anymore of this. But it's okay.

Should be.

Ford, the bigger one, and Stan doesn't have to see his face behind the scarf and goggles to know it's him, has his arms around the smaller one, who's swinging his limbs around wildly like Stan had just a moment ago and dressed the same as his twin. He's smaller only in comparison to his brother— it's a very pretty heavy guy with soft looking parts, strong looking other parts and a tall height but looks like got room for more.

He's screaming, and Stan can hear he's right with his guess— it's a teenager. With a rough voice, almost gravelly. Stan can recognizs a kid who's been smoking at the back of the school too much and permanently fucked his voice up. Stan pauses, realization slapping him just now.

There are other humans in that hell hole?! As young as teenagers?!

"Let me go!"

"No, would you just—"

"I almost had him!"

"You could have been killed!" Stanford growls, and the guy swings at him with his fist. Stan almost jumps up, the instinct to protect Ford at the forefront of his mind with who the hell is this and who they think they are??? with the need to defend his brother, with Soos' grip losening as him and the kids turn their attention on the arguing pair.

Ford catches his fists tho, to Stan's surprise, and twists the guy's arm around to force them back onto his own sides. Ford catches the guy's large built into his own, holding him in some restraining bear hug and pulling them flush together.

Stan feels a spike in his throat watching Ford's new, strong arms wrap over the guy's chest and waist, seeing them way too damn close for a defensive move. The guy must have something in his throat too, and Stan can almost feel that guy's blush under the goggles and scarf.

The fuck...?

"I am not about to let you die."

"Sixer, I swear to God—"

"Hi, excuse me," Mabel chimes in with sugar in her voice and all the men turn to her (while Stan flicks between her and the pair infront of them). She smiles politely, then says "WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?!"

The guy looks at her, then at Dipper, and Soos, before finally landing his gaze on Stan. Then he shrieks, scrambling out of Ford's hold to hide behind him like some kind of wuss.

"AH— Sixer?! What the fuck is this?!"

"Hey, no swearing infront of the kids," Stan gruffs, finally pulling himself from Soos' hold, even though he agrees with the guy's sentiment because what the fuck is this indeed.

The guy's panicking, clutching to Ford's back like Stan is a god damn nightmare on legs. Yeesh. Clingy much?

"What the, why does he look like you? Is this another you again?"

"No, I don't think any version of me would be this foolish," Ford sighs out, and okay, Ouch. Ford pulls his goggles and scarf down, a scowl on his face— directed right at Stan. Marching from the guy's hold, Stan barely sees a six fingered fist draw up and—

"Ow! What the heck, Ford?!" Stan says, now rubbing at the pain blooming on his cheek.

Ford answers with balling his fist in Stan's shirt and tugging him close. His ears are pink, and oh boy it's not the kind of pink Stan thought would happen. Ford is glaring at him, downright seething that Stan could feel heat from his skin.

"You idiot," He stresses, long spear going straight through Stan's chest. "This was a very, very risky move, opening the portal like that. What on Earth were you thinking?"

Well isn't this just fantastic. "I was thinking of getting my brother back, you huge jerk."

"You could have destroyed the universe!"

"Destroyed-schmoid," Stan waves his hand flippantly, and boy did that piss Ford off more. Well, Stan's pretty fucking pissed too. Where's the love? Where's his bear hug that Ford's throwing around like candy?

"How about a thank you for saving you from that sci-fi, sideburn dimension, huh?" Stan says, hoping the jab at his brother's hair would mask the hurt in his chest. Ford lets go, looking at him up and down.

"Thank you? You really expect me to thank you after what you did thirty years ago? Are you out of your mind, Stanley?!"

"After what I did?! Why you ungrateful—!"

"Stanley?" The kid pipes up again, quietly but everyone heard it judging by how everyone turns and looks at him. Stan feels his eyes drawn to him, with the gears turning in his head as he asks again who the hell is this and who do they think they are. Puzzle slots fitting into gaps and grooves the picture so clear, but with one missing piece at the center. Almost there. On the tip of Stan's tongue, almost there.

The kid reaches for his goggles and scarf, pulling them off to reveal a mess of dark shlrt curls, then a large nose with soft cheeks, strong jaw and a face dotted with pimples. His dark brown eyes have that little gleam in his eyes, one their Ma always told Stan he had and that's how she could still tell them apart even when he and Ford aould swap clothes and hide their hands in their pockets to pretend to be each other.

He never believed what she said was true— Ford's eyes were a whole other beauty of their own— but for a second he sees it, right in the confused stare of the teenager.

It's like looking back in their bathroom mirror back in Jersey. Except real, flesh and blood staring back at him, and it's clear to him more than ever who that is. Who Ford is approaching again and holding with a protective arm over the shoulder of a brother— and even more.

Dipper croaks. "What the..."

"Dude..." Soos follows. And really, out of all of them, Stan's never been prouder than he is of Mabel, saying what everyone is thinking once more.

"Let me repeat: WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?!"

[chimerahyperfix]

This loop has to be the one. Nevermind that you said it last loop, and the one before, and the one before that, and most of the ones before that. THIS was the one you'd stop the King in his tracks. You push a few of your many potions to the side to make room on your desk. None of them worked to stop him, so they were useless. He's still about twelve, fourteen? hours away, so you have enough time to make the bomb, eat and take a fat nap before you go pick a fight. Maybe this time, it'll work! It has to!

You've gotten better at making the Craft Bomb. It hasn't blown up on you before you intended to use it in... a long time. You can make it fast enough, now, for it to still be light outside! You've become silent while you work, which Mirabelle has told you is ''worrying'', but you don't see why it is. Are you really that loud? (Yes. You are.)

It's hard work. Soft light bathes your desk, your work, you. You reach out, past your potions, and grab your water bottle. Take a big swig, and

Hmm. That's not water.

How. HOW do you keep making this mistake. You look at the bottle in your hand, and sure enough, it’s one of the potions; your water bottle is shoved in the back of the collection of other containers. The taste is caustic, your throat begins to burn. You shouldn’t be this calm for having just drank something that’ll kill you in a handful of minutes, but it’s happened before. Despite the pain you don't bother trying anything. Just push the finished bomb to the side and lay your face against the wood of the table. Feel the blood start to pool in your mouth and dribbling out, staining the wood. Mirabelle, or Euphie or whoever comes in next, they can use it this loop. It's not the first time you've drank one of the many, many dangerous potions on your desk, and it's probably not the last. Maybe you'll actually clean the crabbing thing off before you work.

Whatever. You have next time. You have all the time.

Perhaps a bit too much, actually.

[bestworstcase]

Anything from Volumes 1-3 that is setup that you don't think is given enough attention or respect for good setup?

Sidenote to this:

Open seat with no person in it + Salem having someone looking for the Choice Relic was hinting at Summer Rose. Did we have anything hinting at her pre Beacon's Fall or just things that she fits given additional context?

regarding summer specifically, while i wouldn’t call them hints per se, there are a handful of beats in v1-3 that smell like foreshadowing to me:

the first is “she was right about you; such arrogance.” – cinder might well be referring to salem here, of course. however. what strikes me about this remark is that arrogance is not a characteristic that salem seems to perceive in ozma; rather she describes him, in her soliloquies and songs, as a self-destructive, deceitful, manipulative fool blinded and trapped by his faith in the old gods. cowardly. fallen from grace. think of what she says to oz in 8.9—look how you’ve diminished, how you’ve lessened yourself—she sees him groveling at the feet of tyrannical monsters and sees debasement.

does it follow for salem to characterize ozpin to cinder as, primarily, arrogant? i’m not convinced it does. but summer rose? well… hm. consider, also, that the full line is “this whole time, right beneath our feet… she was right about you; such arrogance…” <- i think it is more likely than not that “she” is someone inside the brackets of “our,” and in context “our” is either [cinder + ozpin] or [cinder + her associates physically present at beacon].

in the event that “she” is not part of “our” the more naturalistic phrasing is “beneath our feet… salem was right about you” – because “she” otherwise has no antecedent. of course, some allowance here for this to be a narrative choice not to name salem yet, but we’re one (1) episode off from revealing her face and by this point we’ve known for a while that cinder works for someone else, so the choice to drop the name here or in the volume credits is of fairly trivial importance. unless of course cinder isn’t talking about salem.

second: “Oh! We've also stopped some bad guys, too! I guess it's like they say: "like mother, like daughter"! I still wonder why Ozpin let me into the school early…” [laugh track] – obv this part of ruby’s address to summer’s memorial headstone foreshadows ozpin’s conspiracy and team strq’s involvement therein. but it also foreshadows this exchange:

RUBY: We don’t have to kill you to stop you, and we will stop you. SALEM: Your mother said those words to me… she was wrong, too.

and i think it bears pointing out that ruby is wrong here, and later in the volume qrow specifically calls attention to this and lays out why she’s wrong. team rwby didn’t stop the bad guys; they cut off one avenue of attack and cinder circled around from a new direction that took advantage of torchwick’s imprisonment, and this also resulted in the public break between ozpin and ironwood which eroded the cohesion of the inner circle. ergo, ruby thinks she stopped the bad guys but in the long run the consequences of the breach all benefited salem.

looks into the camera like im on the office.

like mother, like daughter!!!

further, that sequence of events ultimately leads to the final confrontation between her and torchwick – wherein he declares “if you can’t beat them, join ’em,” and shortly gets eaten by a grimm right after making it clear that he intends to kill her. torchwick’s death is thematically motivated – a narrative rejection of his cynical every-man-for-himself, dog-eats-dog outlook – but consider that:

summer rose, if she is indeed salem’s willing agent, is certainly at beacon tonight – because she’d be the one who stayed behind to hold the fort.

summer is thus the one salem instructs to “reinforce our numbers at beacon,” meaning the grimm; that instruction only makes sense if the person receiving it can communicate with or command grimm. ergo, summer must have some degree of control over grimm.

ruby is disarmed and on the ground getting beaten by a man who fully intends to kill her, and a grimm swoops down out of nowhere to eliminate him faster than he can blinks. and then… the grimm rears up, roaring at her, and comes down with a sweep of its wings that creates a blast of air that pushes her away. that isn’t aggression!! that’s a defensive threat display!! (the feilong in v4 does the exact same thing – trying to push the boat away). it’s ruby who charges the gryphon, and while it lunges forward in reaction to her charge, all that happens is she gets her feet on its head and pushes off to leap over it, and the grimm goes fucking flying so hard it crashes into the ship’s interior and never emerges. the point being,

math.

it’s plausible that the grimm was drawn to torchwick’s murderous rage. but the way it behaves immediately after it swallows him – that very clear “get away from me please” body language, and ruby -apparently- kicking a grimm the size of a goddamned clydesdale dozens of feet and then through the hull of a literal warship? ruby is strong, but she’s not… that strong. but if the grimm didn’t want to engage her and propelled itself under and past her at the same time as she vaulted off its head? that would explain what happens perfectly – ruby’s kick altered its launch trajectory just enough that it crashed.

minutes later, someone loyal to salem scraped a very badly injured cinder off the top of beacon tower and left ruby alive where qrow would find her. salem’s vested interest in keeping ruby alive is VISIBLE throughout the battle for beacon, and notably include a perfect opportunity to capture her while she’s in a coma atop beacon tower that isn’t taken – suggesting that salem makes her singular attempt to capture ruby solely to reassure cinder that Something is being Done.

and if summer rose has command over grimm and was at beacon that night… the gryphon’s behavior is exactly what i’d expect if all the grimm had marching orders to insure this one girl in particular – the spitting image of their commander – doesn’t come to serious harm. there’s a nonzero chance that gryphon did in fact save ruby On Purpose!

…and that happens in the context of a fight between ruby and the bad guy she thought she stopped (but she was wrong), who joined salem because “if you can’t beat em, join em.” (salem voice) she was wrong, too…

also

<- like mother like daughter. summer had a nevermore’s eye view of the battle for beacon, in this essay i will –

third: this one is something i didn’t really Think About until v9 and specifically the v9 ost dropping, but some of the things cinder says in v2-3 strike me as like – she got that from summer im sure of it. for example, in midnight, cinder’s view of huntsmen is that they’re free, they have power, they can go anywhere and do whatever they want, and rhodes never contradicts this. where did she get “huntsmen and huntresses should conduct themselves with honor and mercy”? who taught her the aspirational moral ideal?

summer rose, maybe.

but in the deeper sense,

where did cinder get the ‘destiny’ conceit? her underlying beliefs about how the world is are a product of her childhood, but the overt framing of fate/destiny isn’t present in midnight; nor has salem ever spoken of destiny and her philosophical views are in many ways a rejection of destiny – salem does not believe in fate, she is the woman who dedicated her life to toppling the gods.

and on close examination this looks like yet another suspiciously summer rose shaped hole!! “you’re special, ruby […] special the way your mom was special […] it was said that those born with silver eyes were destined to lead the life of a warrior.” – in after the fall, ozpin gives coco an entire pep talk whose central conceit is embracing and submitting to the turns of fate – sacrifice “show them gods and deities/blind and keep the people on their knees” & guide my way “you were born to hypnotize them all/they all said their prayers/can you hear me up there?”

cinder, of pyrrha: “people assume she’s fated for victory, when she's really taking fate into her own hands. interesting. add her to the list.” & “it’s not about overpowering the enemy; it’s about taking away what power they have.”

<- that second statement is salem’s strategic doctrine, through and through. but the ‘power’ cinder is talking about here is derived through manipulating the perception of destiny; the self-fulfilling prophecy. the invincible girl cannot be touched because she makes subtle adjustments to insure that no one is able to try. it is pyrrha’s belief in destiny that destroys her, as it destroys ozma. ozpin invokes fate to justify and explain his choices. those born with silver eyes are destined to lead the lives of warriors.

summer rose was destined to live and die fighting the grimm – so the world promised her. maybe she believed, maybe she felt like she had no choice but to accept her prescribed fate. until she met salem, and took fate into her own hands. made a choice. broke the chains. it’s about taking away what power they have, like salem did when she tore the scales from summer’s eyes, like summer did when she refused her destiny and joined hands with the grimm instead.

what does summer rose look like through cinder’s eyes? she was a huntress. she was literally destined to be one of the greatest huntresses in history, a hero, the shining pillar upholding the world order that chose the enslavement of children as a fair price for peace. fate dictated that she be the icon, the idol, the embodiment of the system that brutalized and subjugated cinder – she had every privilege cinder could ever dream of, freedom and security and a home, a loving family – and she chose to walk away.

and if they talked about that like, ever, and specifically if summer talked about that warrior’s destiny as a cage, a curse she had to escape – is it any wonder that cinder would adopt that framing to make sense of what happened to her? if summer rose was fated to stand at the pinnacle, then does it not follow that cinder fall was fated to be ground into the foundations? and likewise, if summer rose can shatter her pedestal and fall from grace, then cinder fall can shatter her chains and rise. summer proves that the idea of destiny is powerful but not inviolate. and it is hollow, it is a lie, a fiction, and that means it can be taken away. revealed as a deception. destroyed.

anyway

to the broader question

i think people really, really do not give the jaundice arc enough credit for the long-term set up it’s doing.

(or the very overt textual statement from THE HISTORY PROFESSOR! placing the blame for the violent radicalization of the white fang squarely on human bigotry and persecution of faunus in general; the white fang arc is clunky and hamstrung by the inadequacy of its vocabulary, but the fandom talking point that the narrative perspective on this subject has “evolved” or “improved” is just. not true. v1 is very emphatically clear that 1. terroristic violence is not activism, 2. ascribing the terroristic violence of a few to an entire minority group to rationalize bigotry is bigoted in and of itself and completely unacceptable, and 3. violent radicalization is created through relentless discrimination and hate, which creates a self-reinforcing circle wherein the justifiable outrage of the persecuted outgroup and the extreme violent reactions provoked by the persecution are distorted into a justification for further persecution by those of the in-group who materially benefit from perpetuating this cycle!!! all of this is explained in an almost afterschool special manner by the main character faunus rights activist and the history professor!!! in volume one!!! what changed is that the writers developed the skill and vocabulary necessary to weave these ideas into their storytelling in a more effective and more cogent way!!! literally begging the rwby fandom to start listening to the actual words the characters say)

ahem. the jaundice arc lays so much of the groundwork for jaune’s and ruby’s character arcs reaching all the way to v9 and undoubtedly beyond; it sets up the first pieces of the ozlem fractal; it foreshadows the white fang arc and sets up blake’s character arc of self-reclamation and figuring out how she wants to use her voice as an activist; it draws attention to the misogynistic cultural norms that define and are defined by the history between ozma and salem; it lays the foundation for the scene in v2 where ozpin questions blake, which hits the way it does because we have the context of anti-faunus harassment occurring openly at ozpin’s school and nobody doing anything about it, and by extension is the first stroke of the salem-faunus connection that is almost certainly the keystone holding the entire narrative together because it is her relation to the faunus that provides the key to decipher the lost fable.

the jaundice arc is a crucial load-bearing pillar that supports the entire narrative and people revile it because nobody in this fandom can be fucking normal about jaune. lmao

[puppppppppy]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[danieyells]

Acimo unscrambles into Camio, and Camio is depicted as standing on burning coals when answering questions, which I assume is the aspect of it that grants Ritsu his pseudo-invulnerability

And I imagined that when Ritsu made his wish it was something like to be unshakeable and impenetrable. He mostly meant it figuratively but as @ritsu-shinjo puts it, being immune to being punched in the face makes Ritsu very smug.

And I imagined that Camio gave him a trial. Just a little one. Maybe even before he made the wish--Leo said the demons chose them after all, so I can imagine that Camio tested Ritsu before he was ever in a situation where he would be desperate enough to sell his soul for a wish.

Ritsu found himself in some vast void or pit in hell or something. But the only thing of note between him and the bird-demon watching him was a little road of burning coals. And all Camio asked him to do was walk to where he stood across the coals. If it hurt too much or he was too frightened the path was narrow enough that he could go off the side. But if he truly believed himself worthy of the change he desired--if he really wanted to be able to help his father--he need only walk through the coals, for the trials ahead of him in life would be equally difficult, if not moreso. His soul was the only cost. But he would live normally. Should Camio need more of him, such as to use his soul while his body lived on or some such, he would know.

Ritsu, of course, requested this contract in writing. It was provided and signed(Camio 'signed' with one of his little clawed bird feet in red. . .'ink'--unsettling but not all that different from a hanko stamp Ritsu supposed) and Ritsu looked at this coal path and his bare feet(this was definitely a dream because his pajamas had mysteriously disappeared and he felt unbothered by his own nudity) and. He walked. And it burned but he was determined. He was worthy. He wasn't going to back down.

And the coals started to give way and sink a bit. They sank his ankles and they burned the whole of his feet. But he kept walking through them, trying to lift his feet up further to unsink himself. But he sank further, down to his calves. It wasn't too late to turn back and escape--but he refused to show weakness or doubt in himself. He wasn't going to show weakness to some nightmare. He kept walking and sank further--knees thighs hips and finally one step just dropped him wholly into a pit where the coals swallowed him completely.

At first he was terrified--but he realized it. Didn't hurt? It was a little hard to breathe, the fire was swallowing his oxygen, but he wasn't in pain. And if he moved his arms or legs the coals moved out of the way. He felt extremely warm, like burning, but not pain and feom what little he could see of his own hands through the coals he wasn't. Burning at all. His body was fine.

He kept walking in the direction he'd been facing. He felt a wall in front of him and when he pressed his hand against it he felt the coals covering him fall away to the ground around him and he was back in his room, pajamas back where they ought to be, no hellish void and his skin cooling down, the only coal left burning in his own hand with the little demon bird stood atop it.

It sang and for a moment he understood. Congratulatory. "Well done, Coalwalker."

The bird flapped its wings and the coal in his hand turned to the contract they had signed, Camio itself becoming a thick smoke he inhaled with a sharp gasp but didn't feel any need to cough from his lungs.

"Should you need the agreed upon strength again, you need only recite the incantation: Acimo."

"Acimo. . . ." He felt stiff, but not tense. Heavy, but not weighed down by his body. Sliding, and tilting, and-- "aah!"

His mattress slid and tilted sideways off of his bed, depositing him onto the floor with a thump much louder than he was sure was truly necessary, his bedside table sliding along the floor some from his head thumping against it. It didn't hurt despite that he felt his elbow collide with the floor--and when he squinted into the dark, hearing his mother running down the hall towards his room in response to the noise, he was certain he saw a divot in the wood where he'd cracked it on impact. None on the rest of the floor at least, but it seemed the desire to be 'unshakeable' had manifested in an increased density.

"Ritsu! Are you alright!?" His mother called into his room. "I'm coming in, okay?"

"Yes, that's fine--I'm alright. . . ." He wasn't in any pain at all. Not from his elbow in the floor or his head hitting the corner of the table. No pain, no blood, no disorientation beyond what was expected from sliding down suddenly--and the sudden lights from the hall and his room light turning on once his mother had opened the door and run over. She reached out to examine him, worried for his wellbeing. Noted his tension--the stiffness that hardened his body when he recited that incantation--and he reassured her that he was simply tense from suddenly waking up falling down. Something guided him to how he could disable the power and he 'relaxed' with a few deep breaths before his mother could worry over him further, although she still insisted on a quick trip to the emergency room to make sure he hadn't had some sort of seizure or fractured anything in his fall.

They replaced his bedframe and had the floor repaired in the coming weeks.

On the way home from the emergency room with his clean bill of health, his mother pointed out to him how rare and odd it was to see a thrush so far into the city. It tweeted at him, and he knew it was for him though he no longer understood its song, and flew away.

It would be a long time before he found use for the physical power he'd been given, but knowing that he was practically immune to physical pain bolstered his mind. Unshakeable. Impenetrable.

He need only become a fully fledged lawyer--the best lawyer in Japan--and he would absolve his father of the mounting accusations against him. This wish was only a piece in his true wish.

Nothing would get in his way, now that he had walked the coals.

[wannabe-minion-of-chaos]

Okay hear me out

Pocket and Damien interacting somehow (assuming we pretend Pocket isn't canonically dead and idk maybe Pips introducing the two of them) and Pocket bringing up his dead bunnies and Damien takes note of that when he returns home

Next time he finds Pocket he brings along a swarm of twenty six demonic baby bunnies he found in hell to reunite with their owner

[bibliosims]

bonus kalei pics