Okay, now that everybody's had some time to process and gotten some of the doomposting out, here's my thoughts on the whole situation.
First of all, I'm not really worried about whether or not RWBY will continue in some capacity. It's uncertain, sure, but no more than it was already. In February we got the update that they were talking to potential partners about getting volume 10 made, so clearly they weren't just relying on Rooster Teeth and Warner Brothers for it - maybe one of those companies will pick it up, maybe a different company will, either way I'm sure it *will* be picked up by somebody and unless they get real unlucky, the show won't be much worse off than it was before - if anything it might be better off, considering that WB have been shitty about animation for quite a while now (if you're not already familiar and you're up for some extra research, I recommend looking into the Coyote vs ACME situation that's been going on recently for a great example of WB's bullshit). And while it's unclear exactly how much involvement the original crew will have in the show's future, I'm pretty optimistic about it. I doubt the writers are going to let go of creative control without a fight, if for nothing else then for Monty - I don't like focusing too much on the whole Monty's Legacy stuff in general, but I do think that the crew are going to want to keep their friend's work alive and authentic and as accurate to what he wanted it to be as possible. None of this is a certainty of course, but I think RWBY is gonna be fine, things will just be kinda rocky for a bit.
With all that being said, while this may end up ultimately being a blessing in disguise for RWBY as a franchise, it sure ain't one for everybody who worked at Rooster Teeth. This entire situation is still horrible - so many people being fired on the spot, effective immediately, with no warning and with several of them only finding out by seeing articles about it being posted on Twitter, it's fucked. I know Rooster Teeth wasn't exactly lacking in controversy and problematic behaviour, to put it lightly, but there were still plenty of amazing people there who are now in a really shitty situation. On top of that, while again this isn't exactly anything new, especially for WB, it is the latest instance of a huge problem in the animation and entertainment industries. So no matter how things pan out for RWBY, we should still be really fucking mad about this.
And we definitely shouldn't be celebrating. I've seen some posts saying "good riddance" and celebrating RT's downfall, not just from people who hate RWBY (I mean don't get me wrong I'm sure the hatedom is out in full force but that's not the kind of thing I'm referring to right now), but people who like/used to like the show and just hated the company. And don't get me wrong, I didn't like a lot of things about the company either, I've actually been wanting RWBY to separate itself from RT for a pretty long time (be careful what you wish for I guess 💀), but there's a time and a place and this certainly ain't it. Plenty of people who have worked there have said that they loved their jobs, plenty of others said it was horrible and toxic and nightmarish, but either way a job is a job and in this industry work isn't always easy to find, especially in recent years. Celebrate in private if you want, but now is not the damn time to be bringing out the cake and confetti.
TLDR; I'm cautiously optimistic about RWBY's future, I'm pretty sure it'll be fine and they'll be able to keep the core crew to at least some extent, but this is still a really bad situation for everybody who just lost their jobs, don't be a dick.
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I feel like a Dceased video game would honestly be terrifyingly awesome to play and if done well, can also deliver very good emotional angst at certain moments, ESPECIALLY the ending, because Damian sacrificing himself and then also having his last moments with Jon to say bye literally made me cry frrrr😭😭 and that's the first time a comic book has ever made me do that (I imagine it would probably be turned into a little series though maybe just to get to that point, like...possibly three games?? Because that apocalypse lasted a long time in the books and everyone who survived grew and got older with all of the time passing by, but idrk though, unless there's a clever way that's figured out on how to fit the whole story into one game without any of it feeling weirdly rushed)
And I can imagine it having gameplay style like The last of us (except some of the main characters have abilities and others have very useful hero gadgets now) and also so many great jumpscare moments too, and like literally because it's mostly superpowered zombies now everywhere besides the regular ones, which is even more terrifying
It'd just be a pretty fun experience all of it, along with a lot of good main characters (idrk all of them though loll) to switch to during different parts of the story (but whenever it's their turn, I would really LOVE playing the Supersons the most though during it hehehe, especially in this kind of setting)
The only thing I would hate though is if the Damian x Cassie romance gets kept, because it just feels weird tbh due to her always being an originally older character that's also always actually been apart of Young Justice (she should be with Tim, Kon and Bart instead who are her main group, not the Supersons!!). And besides the romance, she was only put with the boys just to be the girl in it and also recreate a trinity thing, like Bruce, Clark, Diana, but I don't feel like that fits Damian and Jon's type of thing at all imo
I would honestly just replace her with Maya and Kathy, because they're so much more fitting for a team up with Damian and Jon, especially because of the fact that they're the perfect girls right there too who already have such close relationships with the boys that isn't forced like hers is!! Maya is Damian's sister and Kathy is Jon's first close friend, which is good enough, and I would make sure the romance is still erased, cause they shouldn't have to date just because they're boys and girls hanging out (and obviously mostly because Maya is Damian's sister too, so that would be gross)
But okay, that is just getting a little too off topic from what I'm really trying to talk about I think😳, but my whole point is that it would be really great to have an actual game like this based on the series and I would totally buy it and play it if it was real!!!
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🎵+ our girl lacy hehe
send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)
▶ MAKING THE BED - OLIVIA RODRIGO
and i'm playin the victim so well in my head, but it's me who's been making the bed or lacy visits her dad in prison and reflects on the life she's created*
*as part of the hellfire & ice universe
warnings for mentions of past parental abuse, incarcerated parent, slight drug mention, cussin up a storm as always
also the amount of time this has spent buried in my drafts! it's not right! but it is okay i hope thank you love you anon <3
You had been putting this off for as long as was excusable to put it off-- as long as you could push it, you'd push it. Busy with school, with work now since your gig at The Bookstore had started (which he'd hate), with your... friends (which he'd hate even more, if he knew exactly who that company included).
But eventually, you do just have to bite the bullet and pick up the phone.
The bullet tastes rancid and the visitation room is always freezing. Doesn't matter if you wear your warmest coat--the mink that he bought you, that still smells of smoke from a garbage can at Roane Quarry--you're still practically vibrating by the time you sit down.
"You always ran so cold, baby girl."
Your father smiles at you through the glass. His eyes are wrinkled at the edges, kind of tired. They've got him behind there like a caged animal. Like you're supposed to tap on the glass of his enclosure and see if he'll respond with glee or fury. He's docile today. It's a change; the last couple of times you'd accompanied your mom here, he'd been seething.
"I think it's an iron thing," you muse vacantly, winching your shoulders in.
"Should eat some red meat."
"There's been a concerning lack of filet mignon in my life lately."
That makes him chuckle and that makes you smile. The orange jumpsuit reflects badly against his skin, extra harsh under the burn of overhead fluorescents. Makes you both look sickly; worse than you are. Misery loves company. There's no way you can tell him that you're actually...
"So how are you doing?" He asks you this question and there's a weight attached to it. He must know, right, he must have figured the shitstorm of trouble that you'd been in for in the aftermath of his arrest. The blowback on you. On your mom, who you were white-knuckling yourself into having pity for.
Your lips purse, tugging to the side. Again, no clue how to answer a question like that. Is he expecting game face? Is he expecting... honesty? You can't read it. So you shrug. "You know."
"I don't, Lacy. That's why I asked."
He has a terrible stare, your dad, the kind you can never get out from under. The kind that makes you feel like you're being constantly watched. In the walls, this guy. As if he knows everything already.
"Well, ah-- school is fine, I'm doing about the same as always," you try to smile as casually as possible, "An even keel of greatness, as you used to say, and extracurriculars are... yeah. I, um," and you attempt a throat-clear, "I dropped cheerleading."
Your father pinches his chin between his pointer and his index as you speak, scratching at the side of his face. Contemplative. The smoothness of this expression doesn't break as you drop that on him.
"Why would you do that."
Your toes curl up in your shoes, ten little ice blocks you're begging to thaw out. Your pulse quickens with such a rapid pace that you feel it in your skull. So, you try and answer like he might.
"Conflict of interest."
"Conflict being?"
"Tina and I came to an impasse."
"Pass it." His laconic brilliance outshines yours.
Your throat tightens. "Why?"
This makes his expression falter, his hand drop from his face. There's a weird rush of satisfaction in that, seeing a crack in the facade--but then you have to deal with what leaks out of the crack in the facade.
"What do you mean, why? Because. This is who you are. This is what you've worked for."
Sshrrk, slicing right through the prime rib of you. He doesn't even need to hear you out, because he knows you, he created you.
He saw you attempting to alter and distort yourself in order to be something perfect and said, good.
Necessity is the mother of invention. Take their standards and make it look like you could maintain them in your sleep, bleeding, blindfolded. Be better, and make it look beautiful. Make them love you, then make them fear you.
And if it doesn't fit, shave parts off of yourself until it does.
You doubt that your uniform would even fit anymore.
Your teeth grit so hard that your jaw starts to ache. "I just don't understand why I should--"
"Why are you letting them win?" he asks.
"I'm not," you insist and it turns your stomach, "I'm not letting them win, it's just-- Daddy, you don't know what it's been like out here for--"
"Of course I do. I bet they're saying horrendous, gut-punching things about me, about what I've done, about you-- but what makes you think that freezing them out is the answer?"
You choose not to mention that you'd actually thrown a Molotov cocktail at them the night of Steve Harrington's party. Reason being?
"Self preservation."
"Your fragile ego can't take it?"
"I'm not fragile."
"No, god, you're solid as a rock. At the first sign of trouble, you turn heel, you quit."
"Dad, that isn't fair."
"This life isn't fair. And frankly, Lacy, I don't have faith in your capability to make it on your own."
Something about the way he uses your nickname makes it feel like it's tied too tight around you.
"You're scholastically intelligent, sure, but you're a shell. You have no inner structure. If you don't pack yourself full of something, whether it's pom-poms or prom invitations or fucking diet pills to keep you pretty, you will fall in on yourself." A pause. "You're not a well-rounded person. But it doesn't matter, not if you can make people believe that you are."
"Is that what you did?" Your voice is nearly slurred. When your father wants to cut you down to size, it's the one time that sound moves faster than light-- and it makes your head spin.
"Yes."
"Worked out pretty spectacularly for you, Daddy." It knocks out words you ordinarily wouldn't say.
"You're the child. You're supposed to learn from my mistakes."
"Can I count them on one hand?" Sometimes he'd knock you back for it. But this time there was a sheen of bulletproof glass between you.
"Lacy."
"Is doing yourself up like Saint Jude Thaddeus and siphoning money out of made up charities one of them?" You wonder if he could crack it. Use that handset as a hammer and gather his might and crack it.
"Lacy."
"Is Al Munson another one?" That one lingers between you a moment. "He's a two-bit do nothing deadbeat lowlife that's never come clean out of a job, straight or otherwise. Or so I've heard. People talk. He's like a folk hero now. Does it embarrass you that trusting him was all it took to topple everything?"
A beat. The sense memory of his hand cracking against your cheek is so visceral.
"Does it embarrass you that your charm offensive wasn't offensive enough to fool someone as surface level as him?"
A beat. The feeling of letting him have it, as they say, is all the more real.
"Does it embarrass you that you should've known better?"
A beat. You feel like you've just done a bump of something very dirty. Something somebody would sell out of a tin lunchbox. Immediate headrush.
"You got sloppy trying to fill that gaping maw inside you. And what do you have now?"
"What do you have, Lacy?"
And the descent of fear.
You open your mouth to answer, but decide y'know what. You hang up the headset, and leave him there.
Bussing it back to Forest Hills, your blood slowly starts to recirculate in your veins. With that, second guessing starts to flood in. Should you have said that. Were you right. Did any of it get through. Were you cruel. Did he read you.
Coat shrugged around you, you discover Eddie sitting at the picnic bench on your lot. Handful of pebbles in one hand, old SpaghettiO can in clear sight. A flash of pink presses out of the corner of his lips in sheer concentration-- you watch him miss three shots before you call to him.
"Knew you were flukey."
Eddie's head cranes over his shoulder and he grins a grin so loud and lively that it puts color back in your cheeks. They apple up; you're smiling too.
"Where the hell have you been?"
You cross to the bench, propping yourself up on the table beside him. He keens into you, bumping his head against your fuzzy elbow like a happy cat. Playfully, you nudge him away, but he's relentless.
"Prison. Where the hell do you think?"
Eddie hits pause, stares up at you with eyes brimming with shit, dude and fuck, dude. "Oh. Did it suck?"
You start to shrug it off, to completely glaze over it like the donut of daddy issues you'll force yourself to swallow later. But then you take a second look at him, his big eyes yelling you can tell me, y'know.
"It was fucking awful. Like, horrible."
His spine bolts up a bit. "You okay?"
This one you roll around your head a bit. "Right now, yeah. Maybe it'll hit me later."
"Okay. So worry about it later." Eddie's nonchalance when it comes to dad talk is reassuring. To you, he's a zen master when it comes to disengaging with the goading nature of toxic fathers.
"Worry about it later!" you echo brightly.
"I'll stick around in case, for later." He's a good friend. And your stomach sort of flips.
"Take me to the movies?" An afternoon in the warm dark sounds good.
"Fuck you, what if I had plans?" Eddie pushes back only because it'd be weirder if he didn't.
"You don't," you say, pushing back too, "Unless aiming rocks into that soup can is a prelude to something much more spectacular."
"Maybe it is. Maybe I'm finally trying out for basketball." He misses another shot.
"At the eleventh hour." It's a little transfixing, watching him aim and score. Moreso than when she ever stood on any basketball sidelines. "Why are you so bad at this. You're usually kind of good at this."
"These rocks are too small!" he exclaims, animatedly frustrated. Another one, making a sharp ting! off the can's jagged rim. "But seriously. I got banned from the trailer for playin' my gee-tar too loud while Wayne was sleepin'."
Because vaudeville was always one of your fascinations, you mimic your shittiest Southern accent in tribute to his uncle, "Goddamn, boy, ain't nobody teach you any manners?!"
"Was you brought up or dragged?!" His is so much better than yours.
You chuckle. He chuckles. There's a moment, the two of you looking at each other with the softness of two people with nothing but dumb bits and dangerous families. What ludicrous kinds of lives you lead.
"So, movies?" Eddie says, like it's his idea. You let him have it. It's nice to share.
"We'll always have the movies."
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Canon Characters vs OC vs x Reader
Disclaimer: This is just my two cents, and my perspective on things, and I'm not trying to lay down the law for everyone. I needed to just put this to words though, in order to sleep.
I was thinking about this because of a post I saw, and some, we'll say, kind of useless comments associated with the post. Mean-spirited stuff.
Normally, in one ear and out the other, but the vibes just kicked me off down a rabbit hole of sorts an I wanted to try to put some of my thoughts to words.
First, some style vibes:
Canon x Canon Canon/Canon stories are, to me, like reading an episode of that show. I'm sitting down in front of a TV or whatever, and I'm experiencing the story As A Viewer. I like this style because I don't really have to expend much energy and I just kind of roll with whatever's happening. Generally some sort of 3rd person perspective.
OC x canon OC/Canon stories are like being on a carnival ride. I'm sitting in a car on a roller-coaster, and maybe the OC is sitting next me. I'm experiencing the story more deeply than strictly canon stories, but my connection with the OC is no deeper than say, my connection with Katniss Everdeen when I read The Hunger Games. Sometimes 3rd person, sometimes first person.
Reader x canon Reader/Canon (or Reader x/ OC) is like putting on a VR helmet. I don't get much physical input about the "Reader OC" because I'm experiencing the story through their eyes. I don't expect the reader to be me, but there's a bigger feeling of immersion to be had. Some description might happen cause it's relevant to the story, and it's still a type of ride, I can't jump the rails on the roller coaster, after all. (Even with a VN you still follow the tracks). Sometimes first person, sometimes second person (I'm partial to 2nd person perspective, but that's just me).
I love Fan Fiction, I love it. All of it, and man even more than anything, what I love is that I'm going to dislike 80% of it. Because that 80% was written for someone who is not me. (Hell, that number's probably closer to 99% if we're looking at ALL fandoms, but I digress).
Second - The VENT:
What got me the most in the post that prompted this, was someone saying "Bring back the Mary Sue OCs!" and then they went on to describe something more detailed, and I just -
Look, respectfully, fuck you.
The point is, you're not going to be happy no matter what. Whether it's "mary sue" OCs, or x readers, or alternative universes, or a ship you don't like, you're going to find something to be unhappy about.
Cause people have been bitching about all styles of fan fiction since the first "You've Got Mail" chimed in 1991. And until 1998 and ff.net you really had to hunt for it, and until 2007 and Ao3 the idea of tagging a fic for any reason wasn't really a thing. Every click was a surprise! \o/
I just have seen the same song and dance a dozen times. It's exhausting. People become okay with OCs and decide x readers are the enemy, and before that OCs were *all* Mary Sues and cringe and people who made OCs were the enemy, and before OCs people who wrote even a little OOC were the enemy, and people who wrote AUs were the enemy, and you can write fan fic but it HAS to be Canon Compliant, and everyone MUST be in-character at all times - "They would not fucking say that" was the enemy.
Look, just please - please - in any capacity, stop it with the "All X style of story telling is crap" mindset. There's over a dozen different ways to do x readers alone. I know 20 x reader writers and I don't think any of us have the same style, preferences, or vibes.
I've had a lot of comments along the lines of "I thought I hated x readers, but I really loved this." on a few different fics I've written. Sometimes it's not the style of the fic, sometimes it's the style of the writer, and my Brother In Christ - you're going to have to read some awful shit to shuffle through the thousands of writers out there to find the vibes that resonate with you.
Ostracizing entire swathes of fan fic because you need something to be "The Enemy" so you can lift up something else, and then bitching you can't find anything new to read seems like a personal problem.
And I know y'all are scrolling by TONS of posts that don't interest you, every day, as a matter of course. So don't give me that "clogging up the tag" BS, because we deserve to be here same as anyone else in the fandom.
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