#I swear to god every time I see someone ignoring fandom etiquette I get a little more evil

[plasticstrawsmuggler]

I am literally begging people to learn fandom etiquette if they're getting into fandoms for the first time. I think it's great that it has become more mainstream (God knows I love yapping about my favorite shows to anyone that will listen) but not following etiquette is so damaging to fandom spaces. It's not just spoiler warnings, though that is extremely annoying, it's incorrect tagging, it's trying to monetize fanfiction, it's offering unsolicited critiques on fanworks, shipping wars, sending writers fanfiction, and so so much more.

Correctly tagging work helps filters, if your work is correctly tagged no one should be getting mad at you for seeing something they didn't want to see (and for the love of god learn what the tags mean)

Monetizing fanfiction turns into a legal issue, if you start monetizing fanfiction it is no longer protected under fair use.

Offering unsolicited criticism is rude. Fanworks are created for free, it's not your job to improve the creator's content.

The shipping wars bullshit could take up its entire own post. People have turned shipping into this black and white "good vs bad" thing, and it's not. Sometimes shipping isn't "These characters would have a healthy relationship" and that's okay. Fandom is a space to be creative and weird and explore hypotheticals. Obviously there are problematic ships, and that's a whole other can of worms. I'm not advocating for not giving people who ship illegal shit the side eye, but as soon as we start policing fanworks we open the door to censorship and the question "where does it stop?" has to be asked.

And finally, stop fucking sending writers fanworks. They aren't allowed to read it. They could get into legal trouble if you send it to them and then their future works have elements from your fanfiction. In fact, don't harass anyone involved with your favorite tv show or movie or book. You can interact with them, sure, but bugging them about spoilers or character arcs is just plain rude.

We are allowed nice things as long as we don't fuck shit up. Learn fandom ettiquete, don't fuck up fandom spaces for everyone else.

I'm going to start biting people who don't use spoiler warnings

[banditchika]

kanon: can i please get some romantic interest. can i please

fandom: bandori

word count: 3498

pairing: misakanon

ao3 link

It takes her weeks to work up the courage. Weeks of eyeing Misaki from behind her drums, ducking behind the cymbals every time Misaki turns to glance at her; weeks of freezing by the cafe outside CiRCLE as the rest of Hello Happy trots to the station with her words trapped in the cage of her throat; weeks of agonizing with Chisato over unsent texts and the pragmatics of the Japanese language.

But finally, finally, Kanon manages it.

It's incoherent. It's embarrassing. It's just a hair shy of a disaster. She's actually pretty sure Misaki doesn't really get it, if the way she tilts her head and points at herself is any indication, but at least she agreed. By the end of a Hello Happy practice, Kanon has a promise from Misaki to meet her after school, in the courtyard, so that they can visit Hazawa Coffee together.

She... never wants to do that again. Sure, she somehow found the courage—and sure, Kanon's of the opinion that, if you manage to succeed, then how you did it doesn't really matter—but just thinking about having to stammer out the words again makes her heart race at what might be unhealthy levels. She'll give it another few weeks before she tries something like this again. Or, if everything turns out well, maybe Misaki will be the one that asks her out next time! If there is a next time. Kanon doesn't want to presume...

Ah, this would be so much easier if she were a little more confident, a little more suave! She wishes she could be more like Kaoru—or, no, not like Kaoru, actually. Maybe Kokoro? Though Kokoro isn't actually sauve, per say...

It all boils down to wishing she were anyone other than herself, really. Someone who could impress Misaki and get her to agree to go out on a date with a response that doesn't sound like mild confusion and condescension. Someone who could be a reliable upperclassman for Misaki to depend on, instead of just… Kanon.

But Misaki said yes. Despite the fact that Kanon stammered through half of her invitation, was inaudible for the other half, and directed most of it towards her shoes—Misaki still said yes. They’re going on a date, together. So maybe Kanon should shelve the self-flagellation for another time and just focus on the good things.

Like Misaki walking beside her, smelling of something sharp, chemical, and clean, her school bag and tennis duffel dangling casually from her shoulder. Kanon swallows and averts her gaze. It's rude to stare too much. She doesn't usually have that problem; she has enough trouble meeting people's eyes—-even Chisato's, her oldest and dearest friend—as it is. But when it comes to Misaki, Kanon just can't help herself. She's just so...

…. Oh, God. What if there are mind readers.

It’s a totally irrational, intrusive thought, but Kanon can’t help the wash of fear that floods through her and ticks her internal temperature up a few degrees. Maybe if she screams internally it’ll keep anyone from listening.

Nope! No inappropriate thoughts here! She was definitely not daydreaming about how Misaki's hair, damp from the shower, catches the late afternoon light. Or how interesting it is that every once in awhile, Misaki will tuck her lower lip into her mouth and chew as if deep in thought. Or the breadth of her shoulders and the strong line of her collar, peeking out abouve the dip of the sailor uniform…

Yeah, no. Kanon? Kanon's not thinking about any of that.

"Kanon-san?"

"A-ah! Yes!" Misaki raises her brows at her sudden shout. So do a few other Hanasakigawa students heading back home from their extracurriculars.

Kanon flushes and hunches her shoulders, doing her best impression of a stressed box turtle until they all look away—including Misaki, who thankfully tends to be as bad as she is at maintaining eye-contact.

“So, why’d you want to go out for coffee all of a sudden?” Misaki runs a hand through her hair, the damp strands falling heavily through her fingers.

Kanon swallows.

“I, um… no reason...” Kanon stares at her feet and does her best to pretend that she can’t smell the scent of Misaki’s body wash and shampoo. She swears she’s not being weird about it! It’s just that the wind is carrying the scent over—and she’s always had a good sense of smell, that’s her special talent, and Misaki just finished tennis practice, so of course she’d want to wash off the sweat-—

—And Misaki’s staring at her strangely again. Kanon gulps and tries for a calming smile. Just like what Chisato would do; always does, in fact, when Kanon’s anxieties run a little too high and she needs a moment so she can get her feet back on the ground.

Channeling Chisato’s energies must work because after a while, the corner of Misaki’s mouth hooks upward in her usual wry, barely-there smile. Kanon beams at her, relieved.

Misaki’s always the odd one out in Hello Happy; ignoring the fact that she’s perpetually hidden behind Michelle’s perpetual grin, she’s also the only one whose every smile seems reluctant, like something that has to be dragged out of her rather than willingly, easily given.

If it were anyone else, Kanon would feel worried or anxious that she’s killing the mood; that she shouldn’t be there, that she doesn’t belong. But because it’s Misaki, her cautious smiles are easy to write off as another one of her quirks, like her fondness for eating at family restaurants and her love of sweats.

“I guess I just wanted to spend some time with you, Misaki-chan,” says Kanon, managing to tear her eyes from her feet. She dares to inch a little closer to Misaki. Their shoulders brush, and a tiny thrill runs through her at the miniscule contact, even when Misaki mumbles an apology and moves away.

“Huh. I see.” Misaki folds her arms across her chest and says nothing more.

Kanon is accustomed to this too. Whether at practice, in-between classes, or after school, Misaki tends to be mild-mannered and even a little standoffish, rarely ever saying more than she has to.

Sometimes Kanon wonders why she’s like that. Misaki isn’t an unhappy person; or at least, Kanon doesn’t think so. Kokoro is right when she says Misaki’s a little negative, a little dour—but Kanon doesn’t think she’s unhappy.

Maybe it’s just another one of Misaki’s quirks. Kanon likes that too, if she’s being honest. Whether somber or smiling, Misaki is still Misaki. And tempering Hello Happy’s unrestrained optimism is important too, and so long as Misaki still hides her grins whenever Kokoro and Hagumi do something funny, and hands the Michelle costume to the Suits while humming their setlist under her breath, Kanon doesn’t think she has any cause to worry.

Eve is working the floor when they arrive. She leads them to a quiet, secluded table near the bar, where the scent of freshly ground coffee and baked sweets permeates.

“Enjoy!” she chirps, flashing Kanon a bright smile—and Kanon hopes that it’s just her nerves and overactive imagination at work, because Eve seems almost knowing as she sets the menu—just one—down on the tabletop. But that can’t be, because there’s no way that Eve, sweet, kind-hearted Eve, knows anything about why the two of them are here today, right?

Right?

(Because Chisato’s come up with some really convoluted plans before. Never involving Kanon’s romantic life, mostly because she’s has never had a romantic life to speak of until recently, but she wouldn’t put it past Chisato to try and pull some strings. Because Chisato likes having things work out in a certain way, and if that means she has to get involved herself, then, well…)

“Kanon-san, are you ready to order?” Misaki reaches for the menu, then blinks. “Ah, wait. Go ahead and look at it first.” She raises her hand. “I’ll ask Wakamiya-san for another.”

“No, it’s okay, we can share!” Kanon thrusts the menu at her in a panic, nearly sending it flying into her face with the force of her throw. “I-I already know what I want, anyways, and… and it’s so busy right now! I don’t really want to bother Eve-chan.”

Misaki turns to glance over her shoulder at Eve, standing by the door with a blank, service-industry smile and her platter clutched to her chest. She’s the epitome of “overloaded with work.”

But Misaki doesn’t point that out.

“Alright,” she says, taking the menu with an indulgent smile. “Thank you. Um… you said the tea and cakes here are really good, right? We talked about this once, I think.”

“Ah…” She remembered? She remembered! Kanon can’t help the grin that stretches across her face as she clasps her hands together, feeling altogether a little too giddy for something so little, but—she remembered. “Yes! I said I’d help you see why cafes are so nice, right? Hazawa Cafe is one of my favorites, and I think you’ll definitely see why!”

Misaki laughs in her usual soft, drawling way and leans back in her seat, lips quirked. Kanon flushes. She gets the impression that Misaki’s good mood is at her expense and hurries to try and save her fleeting—and oh, geez, Kaoru has her saying it now too—image of a mature upperclassman.

“Though—um, you really like family restaurants, don’t you? Maybe we should have gone to one instead…” She likes cafes, but if she’s going to ask Misaki out on a date, shouldn’t she have gone to someplace that Misaki enjoys? That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? And Chisato did say that standard date etiquette entails holding the door open for her date and pulling the seat out for her…

Oh no. They’re already seated. Kanon stares at Misaki’s chair, morose, and mourns her missed opportunity. If only she were quicker! If only she hadn’t been staring so hard at Misaki’s back when she’d bent over to put her duffel down!

“Ahaha… no, it’s okay.” Misaki flips open the menu, tracing a finger along the glossy photographs and entries that Kanon has seen a hundred times. “My family and I are going to a family restaurant after this, so it’s better that we’re at a cafe. And besides—I’ve been wanting to try the kind of things you enjoy for a little while now.”

“Y-you have?”

“Mmm.” Misaki’s smile is a little shy. “I was just thinking that I should be showing you a little more appreciation,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “Especially for, y’know, always helping me out with Michelle and everything...”

“No, that’s nothing! I mean, I’d feel bad if I didn’t do something for you.” Does that sound too patronizing? Is she belittling Misaki? “That is, I mean—you’re an important part of Hello Happy, and…”

Her voice trails off. “... also… important to… me…”

Misaki reaches up to her brow. When she doesn’t find the brim of her hat waiting for her, she sheepishly hides her face behind her hand instead, her bashful grin peeking out between the gaps of her fingers. Something in Kanon burns warm and bright to see it.

“Well, I can say the same to you, Kanon-san. Why don’t you let me pay for your order today? So I can show my thanks properly.”

“Ah—no, I should be the one doing that. Misaki-chan, please let me pay for you!”

“... Um.” Misaki sets her hand down. She tilts her head, staring at Kanon like she’s a mushroom growing out the side of a tree. “But why?”

“B-because I’m older than you, and,” Kanon’s voice drops to a whisper. She clears her throat and manages to force the words out: “And because I asked you out? So I-I should be the one paying.”

Misaki stares at her—stares down at her—in dead silence, lips pressed together and expression unreadable. Kanon tries to hold her gaze, but every passing second without a word from Misaki shakes her will more and more, until, to her horror—

Oh, oh no. No, please don’t cry, not here, not in front of Misaki…

“Kanon-san…” A gentle hand rests on her own. It’s surprisingly delicate and warm to the touch. “This is a date?” Misaki’s voice is the softest she’s ever heard it; gentle, like she’s coaxing a frightened animal from its hiding place.

Kanon blinks the stinging tears from her eyes, and Misaki’s face comes into focus. Her brows are raised as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing, her chapped lips slightly parted.

“I-it… it is. At least, I was hoping it was.” Kanon squeezes the hand not caught by Misaki’s, digging the fingers into the fabric of her skirt. “I thought it was. Misaki-chan, I… I like you a lot, you know? A lot, a lot.”

The admission sends her heart racing. Sweat beads on her brow, and—and she’d felt so good about this when their date (not date, now) first began. Kanon’s invitation hadn’t been the best, but Misaki had said yes! She’d said yes, just like Chisato had said she would, and for awhile Kanon really believed that things might turn out well. That she and Misaki would have a nice time, and that Kanon could be a good upperclassman who took Misaki on dates and treated her to coffee and held her hand sometimes, romantically—

But no. No. Misaki is the one holding her hand now, and as nice as that is, as nice as Misaki is, romantic is the last word Kanon would use to describe this situation. Being touched out of pity is worse than not having her hand held at all.

Kanon stares at their joined hands and tries to will away the burn in her eyes.

“Kanon-san?” Misaki pulls away. Kanon’s hand balls into a fist, knuckles pressing hard into the counter. The decorations on the wall have never been more interesting. Is that real brass? She should ask Eve later, when Misaki leaves and Kanon buries her feelings in Mrs. Hazawa’s delicious carrot cake and rose hip tea. “Kanon-san, um…”

Misaki’s hand touches her own, the grip firm but not unkind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you felt that way.”

Kanon’s lip wobbles, but she can’t bring herself to say anything. Whatever escapes her lips will surely be tight with the effort of keeping her tears at bay—embarrassing at best, incomprehensible to human ears at worse. Misaki, thankfully, doesn’t push her.

In fact, Misaki…

Misaki is…

Is blushing?

“I… um.” Her eyes are glued to the menu, hair falling over her face, but there’s no hiding the color staining her cheeks and coloring the tips of her ears. “T-thank you? Ah, geez. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before—!” Her voice cracks, and she promptly dissolves into a coughing fit, which is really nothing at all like the usual gallant, temperate Misaki.

Kanon still wants to cry, but mostly? Mostly, she’s utterly transfixed by the sight before her as Misaki hems, haws, and does everything in her power to treat the table like it’s an actual person. She’s almost reminded of the cruise ship adventure, where Misaki had knelt, red-faced, stammering, and sweating, at her feet with her cap clutched tightly to her chest.

Is this…

What is this?

“Aaah, if I’d known it was a date, I wouldn’t have come like this,” Misaki groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “My hair’s still damp and my uniform stinks and everything…”

Her hand is still on Kanon’s. Kanon laces their fingers together hesitantly, and Misaki’s grumbling stops so fast that she almost wonders if she’d choked.

“Um… Kanon-san?”

“Y-yes?”

“... My hand is kind of sweaty.”

Now that she mentions it, Misaki’s palm is really clammy. It feels a little like holding a fish. But Kanon happens to like fish, and also Misaki, so…

“Oh. Do you want me to let go?”

“W-well! If you don’t mind, then… I guess I don’t really mind either.”

“Then is it okay if we stay like this?”

Misaki’s eyes are darting all over, doing anything and everything but meeting Kanon’s. She nods, a sharp jerk of her chin, and Kanon can’t tear her gaze from Misaki’s flushed face. She really, really, really…

“Misaki-chan?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“I wanted to treat you today. I, um, always want to treat you, because you work so hard and do so much, a-and, you deserve to have someone you can rely on and who can take care of you!” Her words are slurring together, and oh God, Kanon hopes she didn’t projectile-launch a glob of spit at Misaki in the middle of her spiel. “I know I’m not the best upperclassman, and you can’t really—shouldn’t really—look up to me, but I want to do my best for you. I want to be someone you can depend on, like Hello Happy depends on you!”

Misaki stares at her, wide-eyed. Her free hand comes up to hide her face, and Kanon thinks that if she were any less well-mannered, she’d be slumping in her seat. “Kanon-san… you don’t have to try that hard. Just you, um, being there for me… a-asking me out on things like this… it’s perfect the way it is, you know?”

“Ah, that’s right. ‘Everything in moderation’...”

“Mmm. Yeah, that’s how I like it.” Misaki shoots up in her seat, back ramrod straight. “I, uh, that is—I mean—”

“Don’t worry, I think I know what you mean, Misaki-chan.”

“... You, uh. You do?”

Kanon nods. “Yes! You want to take things a little slower, right?” To be honest, she’s kind of glad. All kinds of possibilities had been swirling in her mind after Misaki accepted their… date? Not date? Kind of date.

They would hold hands. They would go home together! Kanon could help her out of the Michelle suit, but instead of stacking Michelle onto a cart for the Suits to take, they would…

Kanon glances up at Eve, who catches her eye with a warm smile. Oh, no. The fear is back.

What if Eve could read minds? Logically, no one could, and Eve would be the most unlikely candidate of all even if telepathy wasn’t fictional, but what if Eve is just really good at reading people? Chisato is, and Eve is Pastel*Palette’s keyboardist. Maybe she’s learned something from Chisato, and she can learn everything that Kanon’s thinking with just one look—

Oh. Oh, no. She’s coming over.

“Hi, Kanon-san, Misaki-san! Are you two ready to order?” Eve’s smile is as blindingly bright as her steel platter. Kanon shrinks under its sheer brilliance. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Eve is a celebrity in the making, but like this? Kanon thinks she needs sunglasses just to look at her.

“Ah, yeah, I guess so!” Misaki glances at her. “I’ll have a cold brew coffee, and…”

“I’ll have a slice of whatever Tsugumi-chan recommends and a pot of dark roast Darjeeling, please.”

“Riiiight away!” Eve flashes another smile and—a wink? Is that a wink? Oh, no. Chisato must have said something, she must have! Her touch is all over this. She takes the menu from Misaki and skips off to the kitchen. “Have a lovely time, you two!”

“Ah, thanks?” Misaki’s smile is a little confused, but as good-natured as ever. She shakes her head. “I’m kind of surprised they have cold brew. Most places don’t.”

“Mmm! This cafe does coffee really well. I don’t usually like it much, but whenever I want a cup, I always come here.” They’re still holding hands. Kanon’s palm is starting to get really sweaty, but she doesn’t want to let go. It’s probably fine. She still has the other hand for eating and drinking, after all.

“Hm, that’s good.” Misaki rests her elbow on the table. She’s still flushed, still unable to meet Kanon’s eyes. It’s endearing and very fortunate—Kanon doesn’t think she’d be able to make sustained eye-contact either. “Say, Kanon-san?”

“Y-yes?”

“Um… will you let me pay for us? I made you so anxious for no reason, so I feel like I should foot the bill.” Misaki gnaws on her lower lip. “No, I mean—I want to pay. And maybe the next time, you can treat me? If that’s what you want! You don’t have to.”

She sighs. “Um, maybe we should just split the bill when we do this again?”

“No, I’d like that.” Next time, next time, next time. It rings in her head like a bell tolling hope. “Thank you, Misaki-chan.”

Misaki smiles at her. A real smile, one that turns her eyes into crescents and makes the weariness perpetually darkening her face fall away. It’s lovely. She’s lovely.

And Kanon is so glad to see that for once, it seems as though she doesn’t have to drag an honest smile out of Misaki at all.

authors note: for @misakan0n​, who read this fic like 5 times while i was working on it bc i was insecure ab my characterization; this one’s for You Specifically