#plus cinder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has been providing a Korean-language service since 2013.

powertaco · 1 year

Text

The Rise of the Legendary Item Shop - All’s well that ends well (last chapter)

A wrap up for Item Shop. Thanks for coming along on the ride and to see how everyone ends up!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39761337/chapters/108561105

Art done by the every talented @galdsy !

---------------spoilers below this line-----------

#rwby #burning whiterose #whiterose #plus cinder

43 notes · View notes

bonefall · 3 months

Note

ougghhh everyone’s talking so fondly about lionpaw and his new friendships made by the ripwater event but all i can think about is his mention of ashfur’s comment. and how lion probably thinks it’s just a little joke but ash might actually mean it :(

There's this little pearl of a theme hidden in the Ripwater Episode, if you look carefully; abuse acts on people in insidious but subtle ways.

It's Mistystar who's defensive of asking for help or admitting a problem, thinking of what she did to Leopardstar and also repeating cultural sentiment that once victimized her herself.

It's Squirrelflight shouting at her daughter for acting like she used to, because she's spent some years being yelled at in a similar way

It's Hollypaw who isn't allowed to enjoy her achievement of saving Otterpaw's life or lean into how much she has in common with Lakepaw, because she's ashamed of how she did something "wrong" by snooping

And lastly, it's Lionpaw, who's starting to believe the vicious comments that Ashfur says about him. I referenced Willowpelt partially for the sweet little irony of him teaching her recipe to her unknown grandson, Ripplepaw, but ALSO because Ashfur is starting to isolate him.

Willowpelt is the Head of Hunting, currently, a position that Lionblaze is going to succeed her in. I don't think Ashfur is playing 4D chess quite yet, but there's a couple of little motivations knocking around in Ashfur's heart for why he's nasty whenever Lionpaw interacts with her;

Ashfur hates Willowpelt, because of the events from Ferncloud's Parting. He isn't aggressive to her directly, but he does spread rumors and slander whenever possible, happy to remind others of her exile.

Lionpaw getting close to Willowpelt will annoy him. Ashfur both hates and resents his apprentice, but also feels POSSESSIVE of him. He feels like Willowpelt will "steal" what's his.

A simple but hard truth; Ashfur wants Lionpaw to hurt. Maybe Ashfur sees it in his head like "telling the hard truth" or "toughening his apprentice up," but when he makes those malicious little comments, makes him recoil with hurt, it feels righteous.

Maybe in the next draft, it should actually be Ashfur, not Blackclaw, who comes to growl at Lionpaw for bonding with Lakepaw over the spears. Maybe have Willowpelt come in to show them how to properly use one and that's actually what set Ash off. Like he just used xenophobia because it was convenient in that moment.

#Also I have been waffling on where BB!Willowpelt dies #But I've realized I need her around for a good part of Po3 #She has a really juicy history now and the dynamics are playing out too well to just pass over. She's too useful to be fodder.#And since I want her around for early Po3 it makes the most sense for her to hang on just long enough to eventually be succeeded by Lion #And if she dies sometime in BB!OotS it's REALLY convenient to fill the 6-month timeskip between Cruel Season and The Beaver Mission with it #Like Lion and Jay threw themselves into work to stay busy while mourning their sister #Plus she can purr and say she's excited that Lion is her grandson-in-law now when he gets with Cinder #See what I mean? It just works out too well if she hangs on a bit longer.#ANYWAY yeah good on you for catching that tiny nugget. There is a LOT behind that little statement #BB!PO3 #better bones au #Emotional Abuse #Child abuse #BB!Lionblaze #BB!Willowpelt #BB!Ashfur

123 notes · View notes

copaganda-clobberfest · 9 months

Text

I'd like to suggest Hazel from RWBY. His sister died young while at Beacon and he believes that it's the fault of the adults in charge (understandably) and Ozpin in particular, especially after joining Salem and learning about the war. He is then written to fight and try to kill the very hunter children he's trying to protect and especially a twelve year old who was unwillingly possessed by Ozpin's soul.

Also Cinder, enslaved as a child, tortured and abused. Tried to escape by stealing weapons and killing her owners but was convinced to simply train with the Huntsman she tried to steal from until she turned 18 and could apply to an academy. Said Huntsman then did nothing to help her beyond the training and left her enslaved knowing she was being regularly tortured with a shock collar. Didn't do anything until slave owners tried to take away the swords that were her only way to freedom. Killed the slave owner and was found by her mentor huntsman who proceeded to threaten her and say her only options were death or life in prison (or being on the run for the rest of her life but he wasn't going to allow that one). Cinder kills him. All of her actions here are framed as bad and like a point of no return. Then obviously she joins Salem and does all the shit that happens in the show. Word of called a hate sink (funny how both characters who were canon enslaved and tortured are called hate sinks huh if by funny one means disgusting).

Also Hazel is another "scary non-white" who wants positive social change and therefore will kill children.

#submission #oooh 2 rwby villains for the batch….. and yeah to be so real cinder could honestly slide in here I hate how they write her too #BUMMERINO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also hazel was hot as fuck fly high big guy #PLUS DIDNT THEY LITERALLY SHELVE HIS BACKSTORY INTO. A MOBILE GAME. RAAAAAAAAA #copaganda clobberfest #propaganda #not a poll #and ur so right about the hatesink thing. plus adam and cinder have another comparison: two villains with a blind eye

8 notes · View notes

toxooz · 1 year

Text

having a Cinder breakthrough rn abt Francis (his raven companion For Now ™) possibly being more than just an immortal animal companion and actually being a part of Cinder somehow like a part of his soul or his conscious or SOMETHING that has them tied to eachother to where they are almost one, and the fact that Francis will Not go into the harpy portal and the symbolism of Cinder leaving Francis behind everytime he goes into the harpy portal theres GOTTA be something more there i can feel it like the phlegm that wont be coughed up in me lmfao

#cinder #francis #idc if noone knows or even remembers cinder i am writing thsi down Now b4 i forget 2 seconds later #bc hes the oldest oc still around yet his back story is still a mystery to me but im piecing it tOGETHER #slowly #as in How did they end up tied together??? through a sentence or contract #did francis materialize out of nowhere or was he around prior to the bond???#was he a sacrifice or in another form previously???#plus the fact that cinder is absolutely obsessed with birds like What Does It Mean #me over every detail of every oc : its about the Symbolism ✏#ive lost the ancient miiverse comic where cinder just finds francis as an injured baby bird caught in the crossfire of cinder fighting a #demon and cInder feels bad and raises him and puts an immortality spell on him so he wont age like cinder #but cmon man thats a surface level origin story i need to go DEEPER

19 notes · View notes

monster-carnival-island · 6 months

Text

Working on concepts for my next big redesign project and I have a little opinion.

They should have used warmer pinks on Cinders design. I just think it looks a bit nicer.

#poptropica #edit #cinder #oh hey it's been a while #going through some stuff #take this quick edit #I am currently working on my version of Fairytale #plus redesigning some old goofball designs #I've been busy while I have been away #I should have a cinder design soon #gotta give my favorite gal some fanart

4 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 2 years

Text

lying on the floor thinking abt how ironwood embodied and was corrupted by the ugliest characteristics of the god of light; the desire for absolute control, the latent hostility and disdain for human emotion, the absolute inability to see beyond his own designs for the world and his perceived creations—even ironwood’s obsessive single-minded focus on getting penny on a leash no matter the cost echoes the way light responded each time salem defied him—

& like. ozpin is absent throughout v7 but oscar devotes most of his time on screen to prying ironwood away from that path, with negligible success—there’s the beginning of a turn after jacques’ arrest, yes, but by the end of the volume it’s crystal clear that ironwood went for the “tell the truth, protect and rally mantle” plan because it made him feel in control of the situation again and the instant cinder and salem shattered that illusion of control, he recoiled from it and lashed out at the allies he perceived as having tricked him into letting his guard down—and ozpin doesn’t return until oscar’s effort in this regard has finally and irrevocably failed. which keeps sticking in my brain as important, particularly in light of watts in 6.4 saying that ozpin is the only person who stood a chance of getting through to ironwood.

(sidebar i think watts was being overly pessimistic there, about the possibility of ozpin foiling them by talking sense into ironwood. even before ozpin died and ironwood entered his fascism death spiral, ironwood marched into an allied kingdom with his armada in tow without so much as a courtesy warning, chafed openly when ozpin declined to blindly deploy that armada on the basis of hearsay from a fifteen year old kid, politically stabbed ozpin in the back by freezing him out of his own council, and throughout it all moped about ozpin not trusting him enough. like,, lmao)

and then of course there’s the fact that atlas was specifically a project that ironwood and ozpin shared—and atlas itself is and has always been used narratively as a symbol for the hollow promises, failures, and illusory progress of the post-war society ozma designed—and the entire story up to this point was a slow inexorable build towards the fall of atlas.

it just seems like a microcosm of what’s going on with ozma and the god of light and the divine mandate? in that ozma’s loyalty to the gods (or at minimum, the inertia of his original loyalty to them) feels reflected in his choice of ironwood to guard the relic of creation and shepherd the floating city meant to represent the ideals ozma thinks humanity needs to achieve to earn salvation—he picks a champion who resembles the god of light himself!—and then, when the budding tyrant he trusted spins around to shoot him he’s not even present to—like his self-imposed isolation inside oscar’s head renders him powerless to even try to change this situation for the better! ozpin later claims that he was secretly there all along, but the only times he resurfaces are when oscar is in immediate mortal peril so i’m not sure that i buy that, at least not in the sense of ozpin having full conscious awareness of what was happening around oscar throughout v7; but either way, his miserable isolation blinded him to the developing crisis—either literally or willfully—and he roused himself just a little too late to prevent catastrophe. again.

(gestures vaguely at lost fable, at ozma trying so hard to have it both ways with salem, to be with the apostate and manipulate her into serving the gods so he wouldn’t have to choose, for years and years and years until his lies and passivity metastasized and they destroyed each other, gestures vaguely at the v5-6 promising not to lie in one breath and immediately lying again in the next, until his secrets got squeezed out of him by the avatar of knowledge who palpably holds him in disdain and his house of cards imploded in his face; also gestures vaguely at ozma the heroic knight errant who faced down an army alone to save one person, and how thousands of years have whittled him down to a morally bankrupt shell of what he was and how that slow putrefaction of his character has been driven every step of the way by refusal to act in some form or another. waves hands it’s about the paralysis of being caught between his conscience and his god-given task)

anyway

i think a normal amt about the blinding of rapunzel’s prince and the exile in the desert and the restoration of his sight when she finds him there

ANYWAY, with the way things are resolved re: ozpin’s return in v8 and the fall of atlas having set the stage, narratively, for a massive paradigm shift in the immediate future and the kids who didn’t fall being in vacuo now—kingdom of destruction, presumable home of the maiden whose fairytale theme is “dont view the world at a distance, take an active part in it,” and the place where eighty years ago ozma won a war with a magical sword nuke and sculpted the world into what it is now, stagnant rotting husk of his ideals that it is—on top of the structural change in salem’s role in v7-8… i just. i just,,

hhhhhh

#NOT TO MENTION #salem has creation + knowledge in her hands now #the *storytelling* qualities #plus the likelihood that she ordered cinder not to go to amity #BECAUSE she wanted it intact for some reason #e.g. intending to use it herself later #and the strong theme in her arc #of the power storytellers have to shape reality #(in a story SHE IS THE NARRATOR OF!!)#like . . .#if rwby is gonna put a spin on #rapunzel’s anguish healing her lover’s sight #after she finds him wandering lost in the desert #um. now is the time and the set up for it is RIGHT THERE #i feel deranged

31 notes · View notes

powertaco · 1 year

Text

Rise of the Legendary Item Shop 20 - Terror in the Tower

The adventurers fight to ascend to the top of the tower and confront the true terror at the top. Will they come out on top? Will Tyrian ever become a customer?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39761337/chapters/107819184

So I have this story about done in the notes. There are 2-3 chapters left and I have 1.5 of them written. Probably 2 and an epilogue if I'm guestimating right. So in that regard Mondays will be item shop Mondays until it's over. Radio Grimm is ready and will be uploaded on Wednesday and BtS on Friday. Hopefully that's fun for everyone. If it’s not I don’t get paid so I mean /shrug.

@galdsy was the artist behind this picture for Item Shop AU featuring Weiss in her human form

#rwby #burning whiterose #that's #whiterose #plus cinder

26 notes · View notes

bonefall · 1 year

Note

OKAY HERE ME OUT: I just had an idea for the Ashfur Ferncloud age situation,, So Ferncloud's brother can be Tulipkit, and they are apprenticed late due to all the Bluestar shenanigans going on, and Dustpelt doesn't mentor one of them cuz he's too young. Tulip takes Ash's appearances, and then later Dustpelt and Ferncloud get together and have their first kit: Ashkit, around the time of Firestar's Journey. (So he's closer in age to Squirrelflight.) This fixes the issue of Dustpelt not being Ashfur's mentor, because instead he'd be his father! And it fixes the problem of any Ferncloud - Ashkit - Cloudkit scenes because Tulipkit can take Ashfur's place until you either eventually kill him off or maybe he sticks around (like petty Ashfur)

I'm definitely solid on breaking the litter in half, with Fern and Elder in the older and Ash and Tulip in the younger. This sister will die during TNP, either in the destruction of the Forest or in the WindClan civil war

(or vice versa with Elder and Tulip; whatever name people like more. It's either Elderberry or Tulipflight. Also in any case they will be a sister.)

Though when Ashkit is born is still up in the air. I think your suggestion's interesting in how it would actually make Ashfur a surviving brother of Spiderleg, Birchfall, and Shrewpaw, but it seems a little too far ahead. It would remove Ashfur's grievance with Tigerstar which I think is important.

His mom was killed and he grew up without her. That doesn't have the same punch if it was just his grandma.

I'm leaning towards him being something like 2 moons old when Brindleface was killed, and Fernpaw is forced to be the closest thing to a parent he'll ever know, with Cloudtail helping out a lot. It works best-- eventually Dustpelt is close to him because that's his brother-in-law

Petty Ashfur is really popular though... maybe it would be worth it to just shuffle in some petty traits into Ferncloud? After all, the 'soft den mom' role is already filled by Daisy, maybe it would be worth it to add some more variety to camp?

#I wish the timeline allowed me to just swap Fern and Elder/Tulip with Cinder and Bracken #But Cinder being injured when she's injured and Bracken being a full warrior when he is... it's too important #BUT I am leaning towards the idea again that Thorn and Bright were actually adopted #Tulipflight/Elderberry won't survive past TNP because I need bodies for the conflicts #Plus I want to prevent ThunderClan from becoming bloated #I could also shuffle in an extra moon of breathing room before Tiger's betrayal...#Bonefall Rewrite #Bonefall TPB #Ferncloud #Ashfur #Brindleface #Tulipflight #Elderberry

22 notes · View notes

emeritiii · 1 year

Text

Decompressing after spending a lot of time with blood family, and by decompressing I mean I bought a Hextech crystal and a faux-leather journal at Staples and I’m caffeinating like the world is ending to catch up on my NaNoWriMo word count

#bitches go 'why are my chronic illness symptoms so bad lately' and then drink four cups of coffee back to back #i'm bitches it's me #on the plus side i'm on a worldbuilding kick #fucked up and evil little magic system where certain types of magic are pathogenic #also Cinder made me perfect incredible art so I am once again on my bullshit

4 notes · View notes

elexaria · 2 months

Text

living with ghoap was nice. two big burly fellas to keep you company, to reach the top shelves in the kitchen for you, to absolutely plough you into the mattress when you couldnt itch your own scratch for once. they were good lads.

but there were countless times where they’d be away for work, so you knew you couldnt be fully dependent on them. they knew that too, so they weren’t exactly going to object to you having fun without them. so long as you were happy and safe, they were content.

but fuck, the men out there are absolutely horrible to deal with. sleazy, there’s just… no ability to have any kind of banter with these things that think only with their cocks.

until you meet kilgöre alexander.

he’s gigantic, his shoulders probably share the same width as mount everest’s base. easily, kilgöre is the tallest man you’ve ever been with. he dwarfs simon in size, which is very telling in itself.

it’s hard to pry away at who kilgöre is as a person. he’s austrian, likes keeping himself to himself. absolutely refuses to tell you what he does for a living, because it’s on a need to know basis. “sounds like something a terrorist would say.” you jokingly coo one night at dinner, smirking as he rolls his foggy blue eyes at your comment. “har har, very funny.” he mockingly says, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly.

he’s one of the best things that’s happened to you in a while. he doesn’t know about the particular living arrangement you share with simon and johnny— like he says, it’s on a need to know basis. plus, you haven’t boned either of them since you met this fella. ghoap know what’s up, but they’re not bothered by it. they’re just glad to see you doing well for yourself. “ye have a glow about ye, love.” johnny coos in your ear one day, smirking as he watches you fluster and flounder around the kitchen, trying to make excuses. “it’s the vitamins i’m taking” this and “i’ve quit dairy” that. he knows the truth, simon know its too.

but there’s one thing that makes the attachment to this man absolutely unbearable.

he disappears from time to time.

some days it’s only a couple of days, maybe a couple of weeks at a push. absolutely no contact.

he swears it’s to do with his line of work, that one day he’ll be able to tell you everything. but for now, he asks just for one thing.

“just… wait for me.”

it’s been almost a month with no contact from kilgöre, and it feels like every morning with no text, no nothing, you have a growing pit inside of you that can’t stop gnawing at you, eating you up whole. what the fuck? what could he possibly do for a career that makes it so he goes days without checking his phone? it makes you feel sick to your stomach. what if he’s in a gang or something?

besides, how the fuck can you keep on waiting for someone who you don’t even know is even alive? for all you know, this behemoth of a man has been hog tied and dumped at the bottom of a lake with cinder blocks strapped to his feet. how are you supposed to wait for someone who shows no signs of leaving or coming back?

“that light in yer eyes has dulled.” johnny remarks one evening, a sad smile on his lips. your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion. “huh? oh, yeah. uh… it’s the gluten intolerance i reckon.” you murmur to yourself, flashing a weak smile to consolidate his inquisitive gaze. “i’m fine, though.”

simon huffs as he leers next to you, skilfully flaying pieces of fish with a pensive look. both you and johnny glance at him, which only makes him grunt in response. you furrow your eyebrows at him, urging him to elaborate on what the pressing issue is.

“we reckon shit’s hit the fan with that new bloke of yours.” simon bluntly replies as he wipes off the chopping board with a damp cloth, hands gently scooping up guts, scales and delicate fish bones to dispose of. you scoff, eyes never leaving the cuts of fish meat that rest on a plate, waiting to be delicately battered and fried up.

“whatev—“

“and i know you, you’ll try and refute the truth that i know what’s going on. that we know what’s going on. so, none of this nonsense, alright? what’s up?”

johnny and simon silently watch you, their simultaneous waiting for any reaction from you making your skin crawl. at first, you scowl and huff. shifting your weight from foot to foot as you become defensive. simon cuts you off again, “none of that bollocks. tell the truth.”

you give in. on bated breath, you explain the whole situation. how kilgöre is the kind of man you had never expected to fall for, how he had managed to steal your attention even while being so elusive and secretive. how you desperately want him to come back to you, like he said he would.

johnny frowns, and simon nods in your direction, wiping his blood stained hands with the damp cloth. “fishy hands.” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers to prove he can’t comfort you with a hug. johnny nods, swiftly making his way around the kitchen island to come give you a warm hug. it’s a solid hug, one you’d never object to having. johnny’s large hands rub circles to your back, his bearded chin resting against your shoulder as he sways gently.

simon stands behind johnny, holding eye contact with you as he continued to carefully clean his hands. he raises his eyebrows in thought, before glancing down at his fingernails as he begins to meticulously clean underneath them to rid his skin of all things fish.

“this… kilgöre bloke. i reckon if he’s the one, he’s worth waitin’ for. but don’t think for a second he should get away with leavin’ you this long without so much as a text, yeah? rip ‘im a new one when he comes back.” he advises, glancing back up at you with a slight smirk when he hears you chuckle, your laugh strained with emotion.

he steps closer, carefully tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze better. he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “if he’s the man you think he is, he’ll explain everything if you ask him to. and if he does? great. if he doesn’t?” you wince at the idea, frowning.

he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.

“then he’s a bloody eejit, as our johnny boy would say.”

#elexaria writes #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #poly!ghoap #poly!ghoap x reader #könig #könig x reader

805 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 3 months

Text

i'm the best thing at this party | e.m.

up and coming rockstar!eddie munson x girlfriend!reader (is that a picture of slash? sure, but we can pretend it isn't.) aka the first time carol ever wrote a fic based off a taylor song. but in my defense, it was a chase petra cover of 'you're losing me' that inspired it. this is not connected to my rockstar!eddie x actress!reader storyline, this is it's own oneshot in a separate story.

in the early 90s, when your boyfriend's band starts to make it in the big leagues, you start to come to terms with the fact that he might not want or need a small town player anymore. eighteen plus. established relationship. angst. hurt/no comfort-ish. open ending.

"and i'm fading, thinkin': 'do something, babe. say somethin'. lose somethin' babe, risk something. choose somethin' babe. i got nothin' to believe, unless you're choosing me.'"

The Hideout was hot with all the bodies packed in like sardines; stark contrast to the icy chill of winter outside. Glowing on the screen was The Tonight Show, everyone’s eyes glued to it while Corroded Coffin made their first national televised debut.

No one’s totally sure how their manager Richie was able to finesse this slot – but they went to New York to film earlier in the week and didn’t ask any questions. With Richie, it's better to not ask questions and just let it happen. Eddie came home with an adrenaline rush so intense that he barely slept for three days. No matter how much you tried to keep him in bed and tire him out.

And sure, it was hard to have him be gone while you drove out to Indy and took a friend to see the new graffiti art exhibit that came in from LA when it was supposed to be with him. It was hard to have him miss a lot of things. His return from the city only started another big talk about it, one you've been having every few months the last two years. Even so, you couldn’t help but be proud of him, proud of all of them. Remembering that just four years ago they were barely getting fifteen people in here to see them play when you first started dating.

The crowd erupts when the camera comes off of the band on the stage and back to Leno at his desk, the boys in real life all standing on the bar. You look up at Ed and smile, he finally did it, he’s doing it. The contracts are signed, the people saw him, he’s gonna make it. He’s making it.

You duck out of the way when they start to spray champagne over everyone by the bar, “Not my hair, babe!”

The two bartenders pour shots of Jameson and flutes of Prosecco while the show cuts to commercial and it’s not long before you feel the sticky chest of your boyfriend up against your shoulder, “It was good? I did good?”

“Ed you’re…you’re fuckin’ famous,” you grin, “You’re fuckin’ famous!”

You follow while he leads you through the crowd, settled in near the back where the stage doors lead to the dressing room and out into the parking lot. He looks over his shoulder twice before he sneaks you both behind the amps; heart pounding when he leans you up against the painted cinder block walls, noses mashing when he takes your lips in his. It’s feverish, desperate when he pulls at your hips, one arm wrapped around your mid back to keep you steady up against him.

“Lemme – mmm – lemme take you to the green room,” he breathes between kisses, moving your hand toward the bulge in his jeans, “C’mon I wan–”

“The interview’s up!” Jeff calls from on top of the bar.

“Where’s Ed? ED? Come on! The interview’s up!” Gareth calls, the crowd erupting in a cheer of ‘Edd-ie, Edd-ie, Edd-ie!’

“Come on, come on!” you squeal, pulling away to pull him toward the front of the bar again, “You said they were gonna cut it!”

“It’s stupid, babe,” he assures, “It’s so dumb.”

“Ed, you’re being interviewed by Leno, this isn’t stupid,” you urge, “This is like – this is it.”

“It’s literally like two minutes, it’s not special,” he doesn’t move when you pull him along with you, a frown pulling on your lips.

“Eddie,” your voice raises an octave, tugging on his hand – he lets go.

“I’m gonna take a leak,” he shrugs, heading toward the green room while you watch him disappear behind the door. Your brows furrow slightly, but it doesn’t stop you from making your way back to the edge of the bar where everyone’s eyes are glued to the medium sized screen in the corner.

The crowd cheers again while the band is re-introduced, Eddie and Jeff sitting on the chairs with Gareth and Grant standing behind them. You admire the way your boyfriend looks post performance, nearly glittering with sweat but glowing with pride – with accomplishment. You look over your shoulder to see if he’s back from the bathroom yet, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“So we got a group of some – what looks like – nice, respectable hard core guys,” Jay smiles.

“I don’t know about respectable,” Eddie scrunches his nose back at the host.

“I don’t know about nice, either,” Jeff jokes. You marvel at how relaxed and natural they all look on camera, cracking wise and getting laughs from the audience. They talk about the album briefly, and the front cover which has all four boys in caskets with a red kiss print on their cheeks.

“So, the debut is self titled, Corroded Coffin – but it looks like you all got a coffin kiss here,” he points out, “These from anyone special? You got the girls going crazy.” The audience erupts in cheers and screams, a bra finding its way flung into the sound stage. You giggle when Gareth and Grant hold it up, making them both blush pink on the screen.

“Well I got a girl at home, so, I don’t hear any screamin’ if it’s not her cheering for me,” Jeff’s smile is bright when the camera focuses on him and he winks into the lens. Sasha, Jeff’s girlfriend, screeches in the crowd of The Hideout.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that!” she beams, and your heart thunders while you watch them kiss on the bar. The promise ring that he gave her back in ‘88 shines on her ring finger, awaiting something much more flashy when that first big rockstar payday hits.

“It’s definitely a change of pace,” Grant nods on the screen, “Definitely wasn’t getting a lot of girls in high school.”

“It’s wild,” Gare laughs.

“And what about you, Munson,” Jay asks, “Frontman like you’s gotta be beating them off with a stick.”

The camera focuses on him, his pink lips and smart grin, a flash of teeth before he starts talking. He’s so handsome, you feel your fingers and toes start to tingle when he opens his mouth.You weren’t expecting to hear your name on national television, or be alluded to. You’d never really prepared yourself for something like this. To be declared to thousands, maybe millions, as a rockstar girlfriend.

You swallow the nervous spit pooling in your mouth, heart pattering while you run through all of the scenarios of the outcome of being ‘announced’ in your head.

“I don’t kiss and tell, Jay,” he smirks.

Oh.

Your hearing clouds and your vision blurs – unsure of what you just heard. If maybe you imagined it, but that proves to be untrue when you feel a few sets of eyes on you. A moment of silent confusion lulls on the crowd at the bar.

You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers and toes cold now while the blood rushes to your heart and head, to your lungs which suddenly forgot how to work. Through teary eyes you look around, drowned out by the cheers of the bar when Jay announces when the album will release. You sniffle, trying to hold it back – but there he is in the back of the crowd now, eyes rounded; pleading, looking straight at you.

The tears spill over and you try to catch your breath as you make your way through the bodies on your way to the front door. You hear Gareth call after you, hearing him stumble over the barstools while he hops off the counter. Another ragged intake of breath shakes through you while you get closer to the sticker covered door, pushing through the first set and then the other into the dark blue night. Your breath puffs white in front of you, coat abandoned somewhere back inside The Hideout while you walk across the street to your car.

You fumble with the keys, blubbering while you get the engine started and the radio blares Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together part way through the song. In the rear view you see him hustle out of the bar to search for you, catching the start of your car and getting to the passenger window before you can pull away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he strains, his fingers hanging on the edge of the half open glass, “I promise it’s not what you think. Richie asked me to answer like that, it wasn’t on purpose.”

You press slightly on the gas, making the car lurch forward and inch.

“Wait! Please don’t – don’t just go,” he begs, voice breaking with desperation, “We can talk about it.”

You look at him through wet eyes, the street lights haloing behind his head to feign his innocence. He can talk himself out of anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you rasp out quietly, “We’ve done enough talking.”

“I can…please don’t go,” he says again, “Not with you crying like this, c’mon. Don’t leave.”

“I’m gonna go home, Ed,” you sniffle, “J-just go h-have fun inside. S’too cold to be out here.”

“You don’t have your coat,” he states, “Come back in and get it. We can talk in the back, please.”

“I don’t need my coat,” you garble out, “I’m going h-home.”

“Well I’ll – I’ll bring it to you tomorrow morning,” he nods needily, “Okay? Is that okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, fogging again against your windshield, “F-fine.”

Eddie cracks a weak but winning smile, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“I love you,” he adds. It tastes like ash in your mouth. You pull away before you feel compelled to say it back.

Eddie show’s up in the morning with coffee and your coat, a small carton of donut holes for you both to share. He’s all smiles, seeing you in the kitchenette cleaning out the coffee pot that you now no longer have to fill.

“Morning, baby,” he grins, “I brought your coat.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the droplets of water that race down the side of the glass pout, “You can just hang it on the hook.”

“Are you…are you still upset with me?” his voice is airy, surprised while he makes his way behind you. Calloused hands reach around to pull your back in his chest, nose nuzzling against your cheek. Your stomach rolls, bile inching up the base of your throat.

“Enough, Ed,” you sigh, pulling out of his hold.

“Sweetheart, c’mon,” he huffs, “I told you already. I didn’t want to say that. But you know how Richie is! He just wants what’s best for the band and so do I! Don’t you? I thought you’d understand.”

“Jeff had no problem talking about Sasha,” you do your best to measure your tone, too early to start yelling.

“Jeff has the wholesome thing going for him; plus – you know his family isn’t for him being considered like, a rogue or whatever. He’s already in a metal band,” Eddie explains, like this is a totally normal conversation, “Richie even said this morning that he was getting a lot of calls.” “Okay,” you nod, sitting down at the small table in your kitchen where your coffee sits.

“And like, a lot of people wanna do interviews with us and get hype up for the release,” he half smiles, sitting down across from you, “I told you, it was…it was a good thing. They were saying y’know like, mysterious bad boy front man is a good angle.”

“Great.”

“It doesn’t…babe, it doesn’t mean we can’t be together,” he leans forward, hand reaching out to touch yours. His shoulders sulk when you put them both under the table.

“Ed I –” you let out a breath, eyes tracing a pattern on the waxed canvas tablecloth, “I can’t even look at you right now. And you wanna tell me we can still be together?”

“What like it’s…some consolation prize?” you choke out, “You made a fool out of me. The looks I got?”

“I know, I know, but it was for the band. You know how I feel abo—“

“How you feel about me?” you hold back a bitter laugh.

“Ed, the last year or so we have kept having the same conversation over and over again. You are so, so caught up in Corroded and making it and getting there and trust me I am so proud of you. If there is anyone on the planet who is more proud than me maybe it’s Wayne, but – this is just like, this is kind of it. We have nowhere to go from here.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his brown eyes rounding and brows tilting slightly when he realizes what you’re really saying, “What do you mean no where to go? Are you not listening? I said we can still be together, just like befo–”

“Before? Before when?” you get up and pace back to the kitchen where he can still see you, “Before when you would cancel dates to go practice? When you missed my awards night for work because you wanted to fill in guitar for a gig in Ohio? When you didn’t come to my poetry reading with the guys like you said you would and instead got plastered at The Hideout after rehearsal?”

“Well I apologized for all that, that was all in the past couple years and I – look, I said I was sorry and you accepted that,” his voice raises slightly, he stands up to full height with defense evident in his stance, “You can’t just throw it back in my face.”

“When you were gone weeks at a time for mini tours, for opening for bands on the East Coast – god, all the work I took off to make sure I was there for you? When you canceled our three year anniversary dinner, without my knowledge, because you got a call for discounted studio time on the same night,” you manage to get out, the tears inching toward the edge of your lash line, “And I sat there at the table in my new dress and everyone looked at me the same way they looked at me last night. Poor girl. Must’ve got stood up. What an idiot.”

“Yeah well that studio time is why we were on fuckin’ LENO, babe!” he pleads, “Don’t you get that? It’s for us!”

“It’s for you!” you break, the shrill frustration coming out with your voice, “It’s always just been for you. It’s always about Eddie and the guys. I have done nothing but make sacrifice after sacrifice, excuse after excuse to play the part of perfect, understanding, cool, laidback girlfriend but like fuck Ed, when is it gonna be about me, huh?” He stands there, unsure, cheeks sucking in between his teeth.

“And what’s on the docket for you on Friday? Have any plans?” you ask, your voice softening while you cross your arms over your chest. You lean the small of your back against the counter while you watch him. He clears his throat, hands finding their way into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Um, we have some meetings in the morning in Indy. And then um, we’re gonna take a late flight out to LA. The label’s excited – they’re really excited,” he breathes out, eyes finding the floor and your sock covered feet.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you nod, voice still measured, “Since we’ve had the tickets for my niece’s winter school concert on the fridge for over a month. I guess I’ll have to tell her that her favorite bonus teacher couldn’t make it.”

“Fuck,” Eddie’s eyes shut, pulling his lips in to run his tongue across them while he thinks of what to say next. Your heart thrums in your chest, throat getting tighter and tighter while you hold back a cry – this was just another thing to add to the list.

“I can make it up to her, I promise,” his raspy nicotine voice becoming garbled with desperation, “I can make this all up to you, too. I swear. I wish you had just told me about all of this.”

“I have, Ed. We are always having the same conversation. I’m tired of having it. I’m so tired of this. Make it up to me? How do you make up for it?”

“I…” he chokes on his words, ringed fingers running over his face and reaching to pull his hair back off his neck.

“Go ahead,” you encourage angrily, “What’re you gonna do? Say something. Fucking, do something, Ed!”

“Baby, I don’t know what to…” he swallows, tears pooling in shiny wells over his eyes, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

You take a breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth, taking the three steps it takes to get to him. Your hands fall from being crossed, reaching up to cup each of his cheeks. Your thumbs run over the apples and drag softly over the stubble left over from the night before.

His eyes shut while he keens into your touch, his rough hands covering yours. Calloused fingertips coasting delicately over your knuckles. You know what you have to do, even if his touch makes you want to do the opposite.

“Go be famous,” you shrug, smiling weakly, “Go be the big rockstar I know you are. Like how you wanted. Go play The Garden and live in LA.”

Your hands slide down his face, tears falling after them, “Go do all that, and just, um – just leave me alone. Please.”

“But I don’t–” he starts, pulling in a sharp breath while a cry leaks out of him, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Oh, Ed,” you shake your head while the ache spills over into your own leveled sob, “I’m already lost.”

“No, please,” he begs, trying to catch your hands as they make it back to your sides, “Please, baby, I’ll fix it. I pro-promise.”

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whisper in finality, “You should go.”

“I don’t want to,” Eddie’s soft pink lips quiver while he speaks, “Please. Please. I can fix it, the next interview, anything, it’ll be all you. I swear I can…I can…”

When your face doesn’t change he knows there’s no way to pull you from your stance, voice trailing off in defeat. You watch as he rips open your storm door and goes to his van, his chest and back shaking with sobs that make the hardware on his jacket cry with him.

A year passes and you are not surprised when you find out that Corroded Coffin has made the cover of Rolling Stone. Wayne bought every copy from the gas station at the end of the road and put them in every mailbox early that morning. You don’t think there’s been a day in the last year that Wayne wasn’t seen beaming ear to ear; his boy finally getting everything he wanted.

Life had gotten easier now that you weren’t regularly expecting disappointment. You went on few dates here and there, just trying to navigate your life after spending four years sharing it with someone else. Some nights were colder than others, but it was better than the frigidness you felt that night at the bar.

You did your best to avoid the tabloids – Eddie was certainly doing just fine navigating his life as a bachelor; some new model or actress on his arm every other month it seemed. Hardrock’s Resident Playboy. It stung the first time you saw it, and a little less each time after – heart breaker to the core; you would know, you were the blueprint.

In the same cold that matched the night at The Hideout a year prior; you sat on your steps wrapped in a robe – morning cigarette between your fingers.

“Morning,” Wayne’s voice is gravelly when it sounds over you, still soaked with left over sleep.

“Mornin’ Wayne,” you smile, taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in your other hand.

“Wanted to uh, to let you know that the guys are playin’ a show in the city tonight. I could uh – I could get you a ticket if y–”

“That’s sweet of you Wayne,” you smile tightly, “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He might like to see you,” he shrugs. He hadn’t quite gotten over the break up the way you and Eddie had, convinced that this was the real deal – that he was watching young love flourish into something bigger.

“He’s seeing someone, Wayne,” you take a drag of your cigarette, “Why would he want to see his ex-girlfriend who still lives in Hawkins? He’s got some actress girl now, right?”

Wayne shrugs again, scratching at the back of his neck, “I never know what that boy’s got goin’ on in California outside of shows and gettin’ into trouble. Maybe he is seeing some girl but, y’know, seein’ an old friend could be good for him.”

“He’s still got plenty of friends here he can see,” you let the smoke out to drift off in the gentle wind rustling through the line of trailers and mobile homes, “I don’t think I need to be one of them.”

“Well, they’re gonna have a small after party at The Hideout tomorrow,” he offers, “Even if you just wanna do somethin’ fun. I never see you goin’ out anymore.”

You laugh, “You work at night, what do you mean you don’t see me goin’ out anymore? I go out plenty.”

His eyes linger on you, enough to encourage a thoughtful sigh – you might as well humor him.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” you toss your half finished cigarette onto the browned grass before looking back up at him.

“Okay,” he smiles, eyes sparkling as he makes his way back inside.

You spend the next day deliberating between making it to the bar or not, putting in the effort to get ready and showing up. Why bother? Just to sit awkwardly in the corner while everyone flocks to the boys and tells them how great they are? They already know they’re great, they’re crawling higher and higher up the ladder.

You haven’t even talked to Eddie since the morning he left your trailer, and Wayne knows that. He knows how bad you hurt his nephew because he came over to talk to you a week after Eddie went to California and stayed for good. ‘So why should I show my face there? So I can relive the moment he made a fool of me over again?’ You think while the hot water of the shower glides over your shoulders and down your chest.

‘Maybe it’ll be good to make amends or something, I at least owe it to the guys,’ you figure silently while you slather on some moisturizer at the bathroom sink. And you did – not seeing Eddie meant not seeing the rest of the band. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were your friends too, and you sort of broke up with them in the same instance. Sasha moved out to California with them soon after – it would be nice to catch up at least. You hadn’t seen her since that night.

‘But why would I want to bother? So I can see that engagement ring on her finger and hear her talk about her wedding plans?’ you swallow sourly while you use a touch of your lipstick as blush on the apples of your cheeks. ‘Remember all the times you thought you and Ed were gonna get married? Hilarious.’

Before you know it, it’s 11:30 and you’re standing outside of the sticky and stickered covered door of The Hideout. Even from where you’re standing the bar is a buzz like a hive, energy inside like a livewire when you get into the entryway, showing your ID to the bouncer at the inside door.

‘Small after party my ass, Wayne,’ you think to yourself when you get in, shrugging off your coat. There was barely room to move and most of the lights were off or dimmed aside from the small stage in the back. By the looks of it, they must’ve played a small set – an intimate ‘home base’ concert for the real hometown fans. You push through some of the crowd, acrid smoke haze hovering over the room. A single bar stool sits empty at the end of the counter close to the wall and before you can think about it, you beeline straight there before someone else can grab it. Not that anyone would be able to see it through the six couples making out to Slayer blasting through the speakers.

The bar tender notices you soon after, coming over to get your order while his two cohorts speedily pour shots and mix drinks. You almost don’t want to get anything just to make the night easier, but opt for a beer instead.

“How much?” you ask over the music.

“WHAT?” the bartender shouts, holding a hand to his ear.

“HOW MUCH?” you yell back.

“ON THE HOUSE. BAND IS COVERING DRINKS,” he shouts back. You take a few dollars out while he pours your beer anyway, sliding it across the bar with a smile. He smiles back, pocketing the ones with a wink before helping another person leaning over the bar.

The TV takes your attention, a tape of their recent interviews and music videos playing on a loop with no sound. The beer is almost comforting as it passes over your tongue, it’s been some time since you just sat in a busy bar – and for the most part, no one here even knows you. For the most part.

A call of your name snaps you back to reality, looking around to see exactly who you thought you would. Sasha. And low and behold a ring sparkles bright on her finger, a breathtakingly big diamond glittering in the neon lights behind the bar.

“Hey!” you call back with a smile, sick crawling up your throat. You watch as she fights the crowd to get over to you, wrapping you in a tight hug while you stay seated on the stool.

“How have you been? You look gorgeous,” Sasha’s tan skin glows back orange in green while the lights change, tight dark curls bouncing prettily around her face.

“I’ve been good!” you nod, your voice hardly sounds like your own, “Y’know just – hanging around Hawkins. How’s LA? How’ that ring?!”

She holds her hand out so you can really see it, her skin is warm in yours while you take her fingers. It’s more beautiful up close, the marquise diamond flanked by two smaller triangles in perfect harmony.

“He did so good, Sash,” you giggle.

“I slapped his arm so hard when I saw it,” she laughs, “I said, ‘Jeff we could’ve bought a freakin’ house!’ but you know how he is.”

“I do, I do,” you nod, “Did you set a date?”

“Probably not for another year or so if we do a big wedding,” she shrugs, “Maybe a little longer? We think it’s smart to actually buy a house first – with this kind of money coming in. And y’know, the industry is, uh, well, it can be wishy washy. What’s in today could be out tomorrow. We wanna be smart.”

“Well thank god he’s marrying someone like you then,” you tease.

“That’s true,” she beams, “Do the guys know you’re here? I can go grab J–”

“No, no, they don’t,” you interrupt, taking her arm gently while she turns to leave, “You don’t have to tell them I’m here. I’ll go find them, I promise.”

Sasha gives you a half hearted smile, “Okay. Well – We’re sitting over by the stage if you wanna come say hi to the guys. Gareth would lose his mind, and Grant brought his new girl with him, she’s so cool. They met in LA and she’s like, got the sickest punky-goth type of thing about her.”

“I love that he’s in love,” you gush.

“Me too,” she nods, “The girls are obsessed with him out there.”

There’s a silence, but it’s knowing – still one person yet to have been mentioned but you both seem to understand it’s not worth bringing it up. Sasha reminds you that they’re by the stage, giving her a wave while she disappears in the throngs of people in the crowd.

Half way through your second beer and a couple of random conversations with people later, you see him in glimpses while people pass by. You can tell by the smirk on his face that he’s flirting, and when more people move and re-disperse, settling, you see glimpses of her, too. Some cute young looking thing, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was her twenty-first birthday. All doe eyed and giggly while he leans over her against the wall near the booths. I guess whoever he’s seeing in California isn’t too important.

He looks good, healthy, you can tell his clothes are tailored now – sort of comical that a tailor would fit and adjust ripped jeans and an old leather jacket. Not that he has to know you think it’s funny.

Eddie leans forward and lets his finger tap her on the nose, a tell-tale sign of his that they’ll kiss later. He’s used that move on you more times than you can count. He did it the night you met, tipsy at a party at Gareth’s – tapped you on the nose, making you scrunch it.

‘Aw, if I knew you’d make a face like that I would’ve booped you way earlier.’

‘What do you mean? What face?’ You scrunch again.

‘That face,’ he bites his lower lip, blush on his cheeks, ‘It’s a cute face.’

You expected it to hurt more, to watch him active in his element; but it doesn’t. You know the motions, you know his tells, he next move. You can see it in the way he leans into her and then leans away – almost kissing her, but leaving her wanting more. You smirk into your next sip, counting down the moments until he puts their conversation on pause to do their rounds and finding her again later. Gotta keep her yearning, you guess. He certainly was always good at things like that.

You don’t see their reunion, you assume it was somewhere near the stage where the band and Sasha were. At the end of the night, the boys play a goodnight mini-set, just three songs. You’d never seen Ed so in his zone in your life, fully basking in the glow of upcoming stardom. Every chord and every lyric punching out of him like the sweat pouring from his hairline and chest. This was what you wanted, what you told him to do.

Go be famous. And here he was. Famous. Just like you said he would be.

Water takes the place of your beer while they play; and you know better than to get up and join the crowd. Much happier sitting at the end of the now more empty bar just listening instead of getting potentially punched or tussled with amongst the bodies.

People take their time leaving when the set is over, shrugging on their coats to brave the cold weather.

‘Thanks for comin’ out to celebrate with us – now get the fuck out so our buddies at the bar can go home before four!’

You savor the conversations and music settling down to a much quieter murmur while you sketch on a napkin. A few people you shared niceties with tap your shoulder to say goodbye, new friends you’ll never see again. On the other end of the bar you hear Grant and his girl order a round of shots. Your head almost pops up at the sound of his voice, but that might bring attention to you that you don’t think you really want. Now that the night is over, you’re glad you came. If anything, just to see that they were making it just fine – and they would have with or without you.

With less people in the bar you can hear Sasha’s laugh in the back where the stage is, and you laugh into your napkin turned sketchpad. Her laugh was always infectious, enough to make the crowd follow suit. You grab a fresh napkin from the pile next to you and start to doodle again while you figure out how to best leave without anyone catching wise that you’re here. Out of the last twenty people left at the bar, a little more than half knew who you were.

The tap of the pen on the bar top while you think blends in with the tinkling of hardware that gets a little louder the closer it gets to you. A squish of leather and drag of a barstool later makes you privy that someone’s next to you. Spiced cologne and sweat sheened skin.

“You come here often?”

Slowly, you turn your head – level with brown eyes you haven’t looked in for a year, just in the glossy pages of magazines you’d leave behind at the grocery store or Melvald’s.

“I used to,” you offer a quiet tired smile, leaning your chin on your hand on the bar, “It’s been a while.”

Eddie smiles back, soft, cautious, “Yeah, same for me.”

You both don’t speak for a moment, adjusting yourselves on the barstools while a few more people head out to leave. The jingle of the door fades out, crunches of the parting patrons’ sneakers and boots in the snow sound outside.

He clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him – the curls of his hair, the slight stubble on his jaw and cheeks. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment before he turns his chest toward you.

“Can I uh, can I get you a drink?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x reader

829 notes · View notes

dummybirdnero · 23 days

Text

wholesome pup hellhound Cinder (plus Salem) stuff for you guys

#rwby #cinder fall #rwby salem #neebo’s monsters au #my art #dummybirdnero

201 notes · View notes

bestworstcase · 2 years

Note

I saw your post on the V7 intro and YEAH. IT BOTHERS ME TOO.

I’m an avid listener of the rwby soundtracks. And it was just so weird to have Trust Love, something so up beat and fun be the opening to the volume that tail spins into oblivion.

The lyrics are clear tho.

“Trust love and open up your eyes. The truth is there but sometimes in disguise.”

“When we trust in love an open up our eyes.”

“Instead your counting on that second sight”

ITS ABOUT THE EYES. ITS ALWAYS ABOUT THE EYES with Rwby. And while the opening is significant to some degree for V7. It actually feels more like it’s Foreshadowing v9.

Maybe it’s too much of a stretch. But if you really pay attention to the lyrics. Trust love is about believing and trusting yourself. Trusting your gut. In order to do the right thing. There’s a lot of self reflection involved. Which is supposed to be 9s core theme. And sure maybe it’s coincidently but. There’s something about that song that’s just a little too whimsical. And little too on the nose for kids who were dragged into a seemingly endless war and want to be whisked away or written into a fairy tail so all their problems could disappear. And v9 comes in and subverts that

hgjfjbd i promise u i PROMISE “trust love is foreshadowing for team rwby v9 arcs that hasn’t come due yet” is far less of a stretch than mine (and also tbh, i think probably the take i would buy most out of the thoughts that have been shared so far on the grounds of it providing a reason for the tonal dissonance that makes sense to me). song abt rejecting fantasy and embracing, trusting what’s real being the only way forward followed by a volume where the kids get chucked into a literal fairytale world and have to escape is also, very rwby and the v8 opening sequence also pretty overtly gestures at v9 fairytale stuff (happy ever after/happy? never again) so like. . . yeah.

the thing is like?? i didn’t blink twice at trust love at first, because a) it was building from a pretty strong trend of openers getting more and more hopeful and upbeat from v4 onwards, and b) it came right on the heels of v6 ending on this triumphant beat of ruby intentionally activating her eyes for the first time by thinking about her loved ones, past and present. plus, as @habitual-shrimp summarized nicely in her rb, there’s a lot of “trust in love or give in to fear” arcs happening in v7, making trust love and fear logical bookends for the volume despite the…weird… tone thing.

BUT THEN

i made the mistake of paying attention to the lyrics a while back and my horrible gremlin brain zeroed in on this verse like a fucking shark detecting blood in the water: “if you could only open up a door/spread your wings and fly away from here/write yourself into a fairytale/all your problems would just disappear” and went oh that’s very specific imagery that evokes a very specific pair of characters doesn’t it AND THEN i was like wait a minute this is a song exhorting its subject to open their eyes, stop hiding, stop pretending, stop retreating into fantasy to cope with utter despair because no matter how dark it seems and no matter how many lies might obscure it the plain truth is that what they truly want is right in front of them staring them in the face if only they could stop burying themselves in fairytales and SEE CLEARLY for once—(at this point i went Oh No because this was a whole train wreck of a thought and yet)—it is. in short. a song in which the speaker urges the subject to let go of a metaphorical blindness so they can save themself by seeing their love aaand that is how i accidentally slammed myself face first into “turn love is a salem song playing conceptually with the blinding of rapunzel’s prince and eventual restoration of his sight by her tears” and now i CAN’T UNHEAR IT

it’s got coherent lyrical parallels to both sacrifice and until the end literally just kill me

it’s the opener for the volume in which ozpin is absent for 95% of the runtime because he’s sunk into the absolute depths of utter despair only to drag himself back up at the very end for a pensive, introspective, emotionally honest monologue on the subject of fear with until the end played under it in the exact moment of salem’s arrival in atlas!!!

hfghfns and like objectively this is Not What The Song Is (right?? it can’t be?) and if trust love weren’t so tonally perpendicular to its volume i probably wouldn’t be like “…UNLESS??” but it is and i am because it’s already weird why not?? read it as a deliberately discordant commentary on ozpin’s critical failures wrt salem and how the consequences of those failures have metastasized into retreating so far into denial and lies, insulating himself so thoroughly in the comforting simplicity of fairytales, that even he can’t really tell what’s true and what isn’t anymore, about her or about himself?? it’s NOT like his terrified refusal to engage with salem as a person which he passed down to the current generation as an inability to even conceive of brokering peace with the unbeatable enemy as a possibility at all is their biggest obstacle or anything except OH WAIT IT IS!!

😵‍💫

anyway when i’m not preoccupied with being completely out of my mind about this song i figure it’s probably? maybe?? meant as a complement to for every life—the thematic and emotional fulcrum of the atlas arc is the realization of the ideological struggle between hope and fear, so trust love exemplifies pure hope just as for every life exemplifies pure, bleak despair? which in fairness, i guess, to my deranged brain, WOULD make sense of salem and oz having this presence in them akin to the presence they have in this will be the day and when it falls; in that v1/v3 they were the narrators and in v7/v8 they are the symbolic harbingers of hope (ozpin’s return in 7.13 marks an abrupt emotional about-face towards courage in the face of dire circumstances) and fear (salem’s arrival—well, you know). but hhhhhhhhhHHHHH

#SIDEBAR i think it’s important probably #to keep in mind that eyes have #symbolic importance to characters #who are not ruby #i don’t think a particular song #merely referencing eyes/sight is #sufficient grounds to conclude it’s about ruby #eg many of yang’s songs evoke #the imagery of her red eyes #cinder’s eyes are described in when it falls #sight and reflection are recurring symbols in weiss’s songs etc #PLUS. when songs reference ruby’s eyes #they tend to do so unambiguously #with the specific image #of ‘mirrored eyes’#for example #or echoing overtly #the associated lore #as in miracle with ‘desire to preserve life is powering the light’#i think the only vague lyrical ref is ‘there’s a light that shines’ in indomitable #which…plays over ruby actually using them so it’s still unambiguous in context #( i *might* buy the argument for #until the end ‘as light fills my eyes’#being ruby or summer IF the song were not #in every other respect including contextual #very clearly abt ozma #whose return immediately prior #is signaled by the golden flash #in his and oscar’s eyes. context!! )#THAT SAID i can see the argument for trust love eye imagery being ruby-specific. given the silver = mirrors = revealing truth link 🤔

8 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

chiaroscur0

lichen boii

tanihana

Random stuff here

peter0807

like old man

wbastartw

wBastArtw

yetanotherpokemonheadcanonblog

My Personal Pokémon Headcanon Playground