#concrit is as welcome as always but if you think its bad

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

Isolated Scene for Perusing and Consideration

look i only write so fast. consistent uploads are the devils work and his good soldiers are struggling alright

S/n’s wandering fingers single out D/n’s jugular in a second, and pull it free of his neck, caressing the band of flesh, before they begin to pluck on it. Shudders rack D/n’s body, but S/n’s expression never twists out of their soft, patient smile, shushing D/n as whimpers start to slide from the intact portion of his throat, legs swimming against the floor.

“Don’t squirm, pet. If you think this is torture now, you wouldn’t like how it feels when fingers go through this pretty little vein of yours,” they whisper, letting their gaze wander onto X/n and R/n, staring on in unfiltered horror, frozen in place for fear of instigating an unrecoverable outcome.

S/n begins to run fingers up and down the vein, D/n choking out sobs as tears well below his eyes, desperately muting himself as S/n croons into his ear. 

“Very good, pet. You’re learning. Let’s hope your friends do the same, yeah?” X/n and R/n stiffen as S/n gradually stands, pulling D/n upwards with their off hand, steading his shaking legs as they start to circle towards the door. S/n rolls their head to the middle of the room. It is a command, but X/n and R/n hesitate nonetheless. S/n’s gaze tightens, but it is far less notable than the movement of their fingernails, red-streaked enamel rolling a sleeve of rubber taut.

The noise that seeps from D/n’s lungs is thoroughly human, a broken, wet sound that echoes over the creak of floorboards as his companions dive to the center of the room. S/n smiles, cruelty pinned between their teeth, and continues to back towards the hallway, eyeing X/n and R/n’s attempts to follow, but leaving them mostly uninterrupted. Anytime they get particularly bold, S/n merely returns attention to the vein between their fingers, letting a shaking D/n bring half of the room to a shuddering stop.

It judders similarly when S/n reaches the door, shifting D/n’s weight to their non-dominant leg and contorting towards the handle, maintaining balance with a palm still threaded through D/n’s throat. He eyes warily as his partners creep forward, desperation wracking through silent steps, biting further into his tongue as S/n whips back into the room, pressing their face alongside his.

“Well played, everyone! Especially you, pet, we’re all very proud. But I’m afraid we’ve run out of time, and I really must run.” The fingers in D/n’s neck untangle in a single, messy second, an arc of scarlet flicking over his shoulder as S/n throws him forward. X/n and R/n pitch forward to catch him, a warm flowing mass pressing into X/n’s shoulder as S/n disappears around the door. His shirt turns damp as they ease D/n onto their side, blood seeping through fingers as X/n cradles spasming muscles to his chest. R/n is teetering, half-crouched and frozen, eyes flicking between the doorway and D/n’s heaving body, skittering onto X/n’s when they register movement. 

The swaying tightens to shakes, skin nearly vibrating as R/n claws down the instinct to ricochet across the room, biting into their tongue to hold their eyes still as well. X/n finds it within himself to nod, forcing his jaw downwards in an arc that makes to bones creak a little. R/n barely hears it, the slam of the door bouncing away from the wall drowning it out. Their body is clipping walls and railing and doorframes, patchwork bruises decorating their arms as they search, but it doesn’t matter. Limbs ache and spasm and pain is a memory because R/n is a live-wire, and that could carry them to the ends of the universe, gliding -fallingstumblingscreaming- down three and four and five flights of stairs and into the crowds of a bar street on a Friday night. 

A scream roars up a cement stairwell, beating against the freshly laid stairs, echoing up and up and into the top of a sky scraper with its intestines waving at the pressing, humid night.

[gerec]

have you've noticed an increase in hate comments on ao3 fics? (not the A/I bot stuff, I know ao3 sorted that out, i'm talking actual people leaving hate comments, and sometimes it's not even guest accounts). i've noticed an increase in the last few months in the x men fandom and others. more and more people commenting bad faith, outright rude comments. i mentioned it to winter_hiems and she said she'd noticed it too - worked an age on her latest and the first comment she got was a hate message. kind of wondering if it's starting to be a widespread thing because our fandoms only partially overlap

Hi Anon,

I haven't been posting very much lately so I haven't noticed an uptick in negative comments - in my experience, it sort of comes and goes over time i.e. you get a bunch all in a short period and then it all disappears again for a long time. My guess is that with the increased interest in X-Men from X-Men 97 we're getting a big influx of new or returning fans, and a small portion of them haven't read the memo on fandom etiquette. It doesn't explain what's happening with other fandoms though so I really couldn't guess :(

Personally, I don't have the energy or inclination to deal with bullshit anymore so I just delete anything that pisses me off and permanently block 'em on ao3. Seriously it never ceases to amaze me, the amount of entitlement and sheer dickishness that exists out there over something we do for love, in our free time.

So here we are again, for those of you who are genuinely new and don't know what's acceptable, and aren't just assholes:

Unless the author says 'I welcome concrit', keep your concrit to yourself. Nobody asked you and nobody wants to know how you would write this thing. Just go write it yourself if you think you can do better.

If you have nothing nice to say, back out of the fic. It costs you nothing to shut the hell up.

Authors do NOT prefer getting shitty comments to getting no comments at all. Authors are sharing their love and joy with the world and genuinely want to hear how its making their readers happy - full stop. They did not do hours of unnecessary research, agonize over plot points, edit the damn thing 20x and stay up nights coming up with ideas just so you could tell them how their fic is wrong/bad/stupid/upsets you/is what's wrong with society today etc. The problem is you. It's always you. Shut up.

Rant over!

[ahiddenpath]

Why do you insist on coddling fanfiction writers? Shouldn't we welcome constructive criticism so that we may improve? As a writer, I can't think of anything worse than resting my laurels on mediocre writing and developing hubris because everyone was too afraid to tell me how bad my fic really was.

I'm assuming this ask was prompted by the two posts I reblogged about fanfiction recently.

The first states that fanfic writers are working on their own projects. A reviewer telling them to write what they want to see isn't concrit. Unless the writer indicated that they aren't sure where to take the story and are looking for input, then telling a writer what to put in their fic is an attempt to have someone make content for you for free. If a reader wants specific content, they must write it, commission it, or seek out someone who is looking for prompts.

The second states that if you don't like a fic, then you shouldn't read it. The implication is that you should leave rather than leave a nasty review, but personally, I mostly take it as, "hey babe, your free time is precious, don't spend it on stuff you don't like." Again, this isn't about concrit. It's a warning against wasting your own time as a reader. Maybe the internet has always been this way, but there seem to be folks who engage in fandom by... Seeking out the exact opposite of what they like and then raging about it. In my opinion, this hurts everyone. Again, nothing here relates to concrit.

I'd say most writers like concrit, but concrit implies that the reader understood the work, possesses analytical skill, and cares about it enough to want to help the writer improve. If a reader cared about the fic, they wouldn't tell the writer to redo the work with their own preferences (ie, the reader's fave ships, tropes, whatever) (see the first above). At that point, what the reader wants is a different fic (see the second above), not to help this writer make their fic stronger. And if a reader dislikes the fic, its subject matter, whatever, then why would they waste their time giving concrit? They're just having a bad time and will probably not be able to provide concrit in good faith (see the second above).

If you're seeking concrit of your ask, and please do forgive me if you aren't, I'd gently suggest reading the original posts I reblogged more carefully. They make no mention of concrit. Also, they are not about coddling anyone, or even being kind. They're about readers using their most valuable resource- their time- more wisely, and also valuing the time of writers.

If you want concrit of your work, please indicate such in your fic, and also join a writing group. Most folks online don't have the free time or training to provide meaningful concrit, which will center on actual writing issues (pacing, management of exposition, cohesiveness of the narrative, etc). If someone is listing the ships and tropes they like and want to see in your fic in a review, that's not concrit. If someone is insulting your fic, that's not concrit. I'm sorry if you have accepted these things as concrit in the past. You deserve better- but also, you likely aren't going to find it for free, unless you have the incredible fortune of attracting a reader who loves your fic, has enough free time to engage deeply, and has some training in reviewing writing.

Meaningful concrit is a give and take thing. Expecting it for free is... A bit of an ask (although it does happen! I see you, review angels). So join a writing group that provides it, and give back in turn. Please don't hoist that expectation onto internet strangers. This kind of work is how you avoid resting on your laurels.

Oh, also, if you're looking for people to "tell you how bad your fic really was," there's... Probably a subreddit for that, assuming it hasn't imploded over the last few days. But again, "this fic is bad," is not concrit. That's... just an insult. If you want that, hey, go for it! But oh my goodness, please don't expect other people to want it in general. They don't. They really, really don't.

Best of luck to you on your writing journey.

[artificialqueens]

Everything Has Changed (Crystal x Gigi) - Ashley

A/N: Crystal has spent years watching her ex-best friend and next door neighbour, Gigi, rise to the top of their High School food chain, never even uttering a word to her as she waits for the bus each morning. What will happen when Crystal’s house floods and she is finds herself sleeping on Gigi’s floor for a week?

Hello again! I finally jumped on the s12 girls band wagon - hope you guys like. This plot really gave me 2013 Wattpad vibes but I decided to embrace and roll with it. Thanks sooooo much to Meggie for beta-ing! Concrit welcome. Xoxo Ashley

The day began as generic as any other for Crystal. 

A spurt of optimism filled her as she slurped down the last of her cereal and made her way outside - failing to notice the big splodge of milk that would be visible on her shirt until the fourth period. The sun was waving down on her, the slight hum of insects and the sight of her neighbour with a pair of shears at hand reminding her that spring was now in full bloom.

“Morning Crystal,” the familiar voice called over the fence.

“Morning!” She waved back at the woman who she would have once called a second mother, the auntie she had never had.

“When’s your mom back?” Maria asked as Crystal neared the end of the driveway. “I’m due a coffee date!”

“A week on Friday.” Crystal smiled back at her, remembering the days when she and Gigi used to join them on their mothers’ meetings, sipping lemonade and pretending to be sophisticated on the opposite side of the cafe. Remembering how Gigi would always make her laugh and she’d end off spitting her soda out anyway and ruining their facade.

Pulling her headphones out of her bag as she said goodbye, she looked up at the girl whose laugh was currently leaping around inside her head like a carousel, whose grinning face was a portrait in Crystal’s brain as clear as the lakes they used to play in.

Only now she wasn’t grinning quite the same.

Taking her usual seat at the bench, she glanced across at Gigi: her dark hair coiffed to perfection, her lips lined just at the right spot, her jet black beauty mark contrasting against her Snow White complexion. She was the type of girl who needed to be painted.

Their eyes met briefly, as they often did on mornings like this, Crystal darting hers away quickly in a chaotic manner and looking at her phone instead: seven twenty-seven. Her bus would be here in six minutes. Nicky would be here in three.

For a split second, she thought she felt Gigi’s eyes looking back on her but she didn’t dare look.

Instead, she tried to think of ways that she could stop herself from reading the freckles on her old friend’s arm as if they were the dictionary definition of perfection. She thought about how Gig’s mascara may have been left on from the night before, of how she’d seen the straight-A student climb out of her window and down her drainpipe like Catwoman herself to steal away into the night. Of how the Gigi she knew in reality was anything but the flawless girl that was adored around the halls.

Seven-thirty. The familiar horn rang before Gigi went to sit shotgun in her best friend’s car. Crystal let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding along with a sigh of relief that the girl was out of sight and out of mind for the day.

Or at least until they had Chemistry together in the third period.

***

“Oh my god,” Crystal spoke aloud, her body frozen for a second as she absorbed the scene in front of her.

Like something from a disaster movie, she watched as water sprayed from the enormous hole in her living room ceiling, her socks already damp through her trainers.

Her flight or fight reflexes kicking in, Crystal did the first thing her brain told her to do which was to run next door and ring their bell as many times as she could, managing to slip on her lawn and stain the knees of her jeans whilst doing so.

“Hi?” Gigi looked Crystal up and down, her nose wrinkling with curiosity as she took in the other girl’s dishevelled state, her greeting more of a question than a welcome.

“Hi.” Crystal paused, trying to think of how she could explain to Gigi that she’d simply walked through her front door after school into a foot of brown water, a smell that matched that description almost exactly, and a giant hole in the ceiling that was firing said brown water at her like an army missile.

“Can I speak to your mom?” 

***

Crystal felt her body relax slightly as she took a sip of the lemonade that was placed in front of her, a twinge of a feeling she couldn’t quite name gnawing at her when she realised that Gigi hadn’t asked what she wanted to drink, simply bringing her what had always brought comfort as a child.

She felt simultaneously overwhelmed and comforted by the sight around her, Gigi sitting in her usual seat as her hands toyed with the couch cushions. Only now an elephant sat between the pair of them, an awkward silence taking over every last air molecule in the room.

Memories flooded back to her as she let her eyes wander: the mantlepiece she had chipped her tooth on, the doors they would prance through as they pretended to be contestants on America’s Next Top Model once everyone was asleep.

Crystal felt her hands starting to sweat, rubbing them against her jeans rather frantically. She’d always managed to cope on a morning or in school - sure, sometimes the sight of Gigi sent her into a spiral of self-doubt and questions, but it was never something completely out of her control, never something that bothered her to such a great extent.

Maybe it was that she’d lost the privilege of her headphones to distract her from her past.

Maybe it was how familiar her surroundings were.

Maybe it was how natural it had first felt as she sat in Gigi’s living room.

Just as she heard the other girl start to speak, attempting to cut the tension that wrapped around the pair of them like thick green vines, they were saved by Maria entering the room again, phone in hand.

“So, your hot water tank has burst!” She looked at Crystal and let out a frustrated laugh. “The plumbers are starting to clear up now but they think it’s going to take a full week. I’m sorry sweetie. I’ve called your Mom and she’s happy for you to stay here with us and is going to try to leave her conference early.”

Maria went on to talk about getting essentials after the day’s work was finished and the logistics of their insurance but it soon became a gust of wind that swept right over Crystal’s head.

“I don’t need to say here, don’t worry!” Crystal smiled at Maria, grateful for her generosity but feeling the prick of tears at the back of her eyes daring to fall. Her eyes looked absolutely anywhere but at Gigi. “I can always go visit my family in Missouri for a week, I haven’t seen them for a while.”

“I dunno how your mom would feel about you missing a week of school, this is senior year now.” Maria placed a tentative hand on Crystal’s, clearly sensing the anxiety that was shooting out of her like flaming arrows. “Don’t stress! Think of it as one long week-long sleepover. Just like old times!”

Crystal couldn’t tell if she was trapped in heaven or hell but she knew one thing for sure, it wouldn’t be like old times.

***

Crystal found it strange how Gigi’s bedroom was so similar to how it was when they were younger, yet simultaneously different in certain, striking ways.

The antithesis to Crystal’s walls of clutter, Gigi’s room had always been pristine and that hadn’t changed. Placed on her dressing table were framed photos of her and her friends, one of her and Nicky catching Crystal’s eye.

She’d never grown close to Nicky. Even though a part of Crystal disliked her for the shit music she blasted from her sports car and for stealing away her best friend - the other, more loving side of her told her that Nicky didn’t really seem to have a bad bone in her body and that she must be fun if Gigi was so fond of her.

Crystal always found herself trusting Gigi’s judgement even though they were no longer friends, even though that judgment was cast badly upon herself.

Her eyes made their way to the other side of the room, a warm, fuzzy feeling taking over her body as she looked at Gigi’s huge world map that hung in front of her.

Pink pins for where she’d been and blue pins for where she wanted to go. Missouri caught her eye, bright pink straight away, Crystal remembering how excited Gigi had been to change its colour after she had joined one of her visits home in the holidays, how interested she was in exploring the lakes that raised Crystal. She knew Gigi would always be an explorer, it was just a shame that she was no longer the trusty navigator that bounced by her side.

Before she knew it, her hands were running across the books on Gigi’s shelves, stopping on her worn-out copy of Emma.

She never hated Gigi for the fact they were not friends anymore. She knew it happened to loads of pairs like themselves, that it’s natural to drift apart at high school and find different interests. Crystal often prided herself on being mature and understanding, knowing that sometimes there were deeper things in other people’s minds that she just had to accept. Yet at that moment, she couldn’t deny that the sight of the last birthday present she had bought for Gigi sitting front and centre, it’s pages worn and dog-eared, happened to sting that tiny bit.

“It’s not a museum,” Gigi snapped at her from across the room, only for her own face to fall a little when she saw Crystal’s - the slap of instant regret bright red on her cheeks.

“Sorry.” She moved over to the bookshelf, pulling the copy out and holding it in her manicured hands as though it were made of papier-mache. “Can you remember I used to take it out at the library so much? You gave it to me and told me it was so I never had to hide it to stop anyone else borrowing it anymore.”

Crystal’s heart dipped a whole centimetre in her chest.

Of course she remembered.

Silence enveloped the pair yet again as Crystal’s makeshift bed was constructed on the floor, a look on Gigi’s face that Crystal couldn’t quite piece together. 

Trying to fight the awkwardness, Crystal pulled out her phone and began to scroll down her Instagram feed aimlessly, no one she could message even springing to her mind.

“Oh my god, we cannot do this all week,” Gigi blurted out what she’d been trying to contain all in one breath, causing Crystal to laugh at the girl’s inability to remain silent for any given period of time. And before she knew it Gigi was laughing too, the pair almost automatically falling back into that lull that once fell so naturally. Chatting more and more naturally as the drama of Top Model made up their background music.

There, underneath the plastic demeanour, was Crystal’s old best friend.

***

At first, Crystal didn’t know where she was when she woke up, her body feeling awkward in her jeans. But her confusion slid away at the sight of Gigi at her dressing table, applying the daintiest amount of blush to her pale cheeks.

Looking down she realised she was in Gigi’s bed rather than the one made up for her on the floor, assuming that she must have drifted off whilst watching their show.

“Good morning, camper.” Gigi raised an eyebrow in her mirror and grinned, never fully turning around to look at Crystal.

“Morning.” She stretched her arms in the air, the fact that Gigi must have tucked a blanket around her whilst she slept hitting her like a tonne of bricks. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past seven.”

“Oh. That’s no good!” Crystal jumped out of the bed and began rummaging through her case quite rapidly, Gigi chuckling under her breath at the way Crystal worked as a poster girl for the chaotic good character, clearly seeing some form of adorable in the other girl’s frustration.

Pulling a leopard print shirt out of her bag, Crystal quickly removed yesterday’s jumper and spruced herself up for the day ahead, finding some blue jeans to match and throwing them on whilst Gigi carried on with her makeup in the mirror, her eyes flickering back and forth.

“I think my Mom made some breakfast if you have time. Nicky’s coming for me soon…” She trailed off almost in a defensive way, her eyes glossing back down to the palette in front of her.

“Yeah,” Crystal responded, not sure on what she was agreeing with, before starting to pack her bag for the day. “I don’t want to miss the bus, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Maybe things hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought.

***

“Ugh.” Crystal found herself longing to throw her pencil across the room in a fit of rage as she failed the seventh time to do the chemical equation in front of her.

“You know, I’m currently sitting at an A in Chemistry.” Gigi waved her hands in the air at the girl from her bed, dog-earing the corner of her book and casting it aside.

“I don’t need you to do my work for me!” Crystal squealed as she moved the paper away from Gigi’s peeping eyes, determined to finish the question.

This was now her third night in the Goode household and she was starting to scare herself at how easily she fell back into place with Gigi when no one else was around. They had spent the past few days catching each other up on their lives, watching crap TV and just being together.

It was safe to say that Crystal was starting to see the beams of a happier Gigi shine through the cracks, a Gigi who wasn’t afraid to be rough around the edges. 

But her hopes were kept low each morning when they parted their usual ways at the social jungle of their high school.

“I’m not saying I’ll do it for you, I’ll just help.” Gigi moved closer and Crystal could feel the warmth of her body on her own. The tiniest contact sending her brain in circles.“Besides, I did this three days ago; I don’t know why you’re hiding the questions.”

“Okay, but only if we do something fun after.”

“Actually.” Gigi paused and gave Crystal the grin of an excited puppy. “I have the perfect game to make up some lost time.”

***

“I’ll start.” An idea popped into Crystal’s head as she turned to face Gigi with excitement. “Number one: where do you go when you sneak off in the middle of the night?”

“Do you spy on me?” Gigi opened her jaw wide, causing Crystal to go into panic mode before releasing she was simply playing. “Sometimes it’s to meet people by the quarry and have a drink. Sometimes I just like to go get some fresh air alone.”

Crystal could sense she wasn’t getting a full answer but didn’t want to pry, preparing herself for what she’d be asked.

“Hmm.” Gigi giggled to herself as she gave Crystal a once over. Crystal could almost see the lightbulb pop out of her pretty little head when she thought of a question. “Number two: do you think Mr. Charles has a crush on you?”

Taking Crystal by surprise, it took her a minute to gain her composure. “What sort of question is that?”

“A genuine one!” Gigi tried to pull a straight face. “I see the way he’s always staring at you, putting his hand in your hair when he checks your work.”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting.” Crystal smacked the other girl with a pillow resulting in the biggest scene of dramatics she’d witnessed since their school’s production of Les Mis.

The questions began to roll one after the other, starting off as fun and light-hearted.

“Where do you even sit at lunch?”

…

“Pasta or pizza?”

….

“When did you lose your virginity?”

….

“Was Poland as good as you thought it would be?”

…

“Do you remember our time capsule?”

…

But as the sky outside started to darken, their subject matter deepened. It has reached that time of night where boundaries dilapidated and unbreached territory began to be uncrossed.

“Number 10.” Crystal paused, building up the courage to finally breach the topic the pair has shied away from all week. “Was it because everyone called me a dyke? Is that why we’re not friends?”

Crystal watched as her friend winced - wishing so much that she could just pretend that period had never occurred and never to speak about it, but knowing that it was a bridge both she and Gigi needed to cross and it would be much better if they could cross it together, stopping each other from falling between the jagged planks.

“Partly, yeah.” Gigi nodded and looked Crystal in the eyes.

Really, really looked into her eyes.

“I don’t think I thought that at the time, I told myself we just had different interests. But I think that sometimes I just get so caught up in what people think about me, I get lost in what’s right and wrong. I’ve just always wanted to be ‘perfect.’ I lost sight of what that even meant. But I never, ever cared what you thought about me. Not in that way, at least…” She trailed off and Crystal placed a comforting hand over hers, letting her know that she was loved. “I’m so sorry.” A single tear fell down her face. The first time Crystal had seen her cry since they were seven. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” Crystal squeezed her hand tighter.

It was the truth. Even though sometimes she wanted to, she couldn’t have ever hated Gigi even if she tried. 

She knew that her actions were wrong, she knew that she couldn’t make excuses for not being there, for not trying to stop it. She knew that things wouldn’t magically click back to how they used to. But she also knew that Gigi was sorry.

Scars took time to heal.

And they’d still be visible even once they had.

But people say they only make someone stronger.

“If I was you, I think I’d hate me. Feel free to slap me if you want.”

“Do you really want me to slap you?” Crystal raised an eyebrow to the girl.

“No.” Gigi sighed. “And you just wasted your question.”

“Fuck sake.” Crystal found herself blushing for no apparent reason. She guessed that Gigi just brought out the nervous side of her sometimes.

“Number thirteen: what does your tattoo say?” 

Crystal was a deer in the headlights.

Her tattoo - the most genius yet idiotic idea she’d ever had in her life.

Aged 16, still reeling in that high you get from a gig with a fake ID at the ready.

Somewhere nice and hidden where hardly anyone would see, figuring she’d never have to explain it to anyone she wasn’t intimate with, always having the open option to lie about it’s meaning to save embarrassment.

But Gigi had seen it.

She thought of the past few days when they’d both been getting ready for school.

Never really processing it herself, she had peaked at Gigi’s body - slight glances at the way her ribs and clavicle jutted out through her skin.

She didn’t realise Gigi had been looking back.

“One Direction,” she responded after what was probably a longer than socially-acceptable pause.

“One Direction?” Gigi exclaimed back, wrinkling her nose and opening her mouth wide at the girl.

“Yes.” Crystal replied seriously, trying to stop the laugh from slipping through her lips. “One Direction.”

“That is weird on so many levels, Crystal.” Gigi shook her head and started to laugh. “You mean to tell me that when you sit on the bench with that unapproachable look on your face wearing black eyeliner thicker than your wrists, you’re blasting Truly, Madly, Deeply from your headphones?”

“Yep,” she simply stated. Strangely it had never occurred to her before that as she made hidden glances at Gigi each morning, Gigi was taking them back just the same.

“Crystal Elizabeth Methyd, you never fail to surprise me.”

***

“You don’t need to feel bad about leaving me, I’ve got stuff to do,” Crystal pleaded as Gigi scavenged through her closet like an excited child with their first-ever Barbie doll.

It was Thursday night and the end of Crystal’s impromptu vacation in the Goode household. Her typical night consisted of homework, pizza, and reading old fan-fiction until four AM.

Gigi had different ideas.

“How many parties have you been to in high school?”

“None,” Crystal answered, not even attempting to slip out a lie.

“Exactly,” Gigi replied before settling on a pink latex dress and throwing it in Crystal’s direction.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about me missing out, I’ve never wanted to and we have school tomorrow!” Crystal examined the dress, her eyes widening at the thought of how much skin it would show.

“Maybe I just want you there.” Gigi stopped as she settled on her own dress. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

Crystal didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fine.” She responded, resulting in some excited squealing and hand-clapping from the other side of the room. “But I just can’t wear this.”

“Sure you can, just undo the zipper, step into it, put your arms through the sleeves and do it back up again. It’s not that hard. I can help if you’d like?”

Crystal tried hard not to give her the satisfaction of a laugh but once again failed. “You know what I meant.”

“At least try! I spent good money on that and it hangs off my body. You’ve got the curves to fill it at least.”

Trying her hardest not to blush, Crystal gave in and tried the dress on, surprising herself at how good it actually looked.

“See!” Gigi motioned her hands up and down at Crystal’s body. “I know these things.”

It was safe to say that Crystal was waiting for the day she’d win one of her verbal battles with Gigi Goode. Yet she was never really that annoyed when she lost them.

***

Although a small part of her wished she was curled up in bed with a bag of M&Ms watching a movie, Crystal was enjoying herself. 

Yes, she had spent the majority of the night by Gigi’s side, dancing like idiots and watching people hook up, but she still found herself branching out in smaller ways, taking as many steps as her size fives could - partly because she wanted to and partly because of the smile she saw on Gigi’s face as she conversed with Nicky and the other girls. Although still sceptical around them, Crystal was happy finding common ground with Gigi’s friends, even seeing a goofy side of Nicky that she didn’t even know was there.

Distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t even realised there was someone next to her at the punch bowl until he spoke.

“Have we met?” He looked Crystal up and down with a smile.

Yes, she thought to herself. We have around 10 hours of class together each week. But being polite and trying her hardest to make friends she didn’t dare say that aloud. “I think I’ve seen you around, I’m Crystal.”

“Josh.” He took her hand and shook it, holding on for maybe a second longer than normal. “Bit less exciting than Crystal.”

“My mom was really into Pokemon during her pregnancy,” she responded. However, before her joke could be processed she felt the red punch from the boy’s hand splash across her front.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He looked at Crystal apologetically before rushing to grab a dishtowel. “I hope I’ve not stained your dress.”

“It’s Gigi’s so I think you’d be feeling her wrath rather than mine.” Crystal went to reach for the towel only for the boy to start wiping away at her front.

“Oh, I can do that.” She went to swat his hand away when they were interrupted by a familiar cough.

“God, Gigi, you ought to keep that one on a leash.” One of her friends muttered under their breath, just loud enough for Crystal to hear and take a step backwards.

She watched her friend’s face turn at the sight, watched her mouth open and close twice before she spoke. “Do you mind moving away from my friend?”

“Gigi, it’s fine,” Crystal responded as the boy she was talking to leapt away from her and raised his hands in the air. “I can handle myself.”

“Nicky will drop you off home.” She ignored Crystal’s words before turning to leave the room. “I think I’m gonna walk.”

“Wait.” Crystal shouted after her as she made her exit, just the two of them standing in the large foyer, Gigi haphazardly raking around for her snakeskin jacket. “I was just being friendly, I don’t see the problem.”

“That’s because you’re naive. You let people take advantage of you.” Gigi turned to face Crystal, finally finding her jacket and slinging it over her thin frame. 

“Or maybe you’re just a jealous bitch who can’t deal with the attention being on someone else for a second.” Crystal spat back at her, shocking herself with her words.

It was a word that had floated around a lot since Gigi became popular but it had never quite reached the surface. She knew Gigi wasn’t a bitch - remembering the time she spent seven hours making her a friendship bracelet in all her favourite colours, the time they went to the theme park and they rode all the scary rides even though Gigi was terrified of them, just so her friend would be happy. She knew her intentions were good in scaring the boy away, a part of her just wished that Gigi would stop looking at her like the lost puppy she was in freshman year. But that’s what came out of her mouth, and she couldn’t take it back now.

She watched Gigi stop in her tracks. Bending down and resting her body on the shoe rack below her.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal went to join her side. “I didn’t mean that. I know you mean the best, I just don’t need you to defend me.”

“You’re right,” she spoke, clear frustration seeping from somewhere deeper than their current argument, a small crack in her voice. Once again Crystal had hit the wall in Gigi that she was yet to break down. “I just want you to understand.”

“Then help me to.” Crystal reached a hand out to her, squeezing, once, twice.

At first, she remained still, but Crystal then saw the switch flip. Gigi squeezed back.

“I need to steal a shovel.”

***

The sky around the pair was still dark, their two phone torches shining down on the route that their feet had danced across so many times.

Although Crystal knew that they should probably wait till morning and that Maria would probably realise they were gone, she didn’t want to sacrifice Gigi opening up to her, her heart beating faster and faster as they walked through the meadow.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still another six years till we’re supposed to dig this up.” Crystal shivered, the side effects of the punch she drank starting to wear off. “I can’t believe Gigi Goode is voluntarily breaking rules!”

“Shut up.” She gave Crystal a friendly punch before taking off her coat and wrapping it around her friend’s shoulders, Crystal still feeling a pang of guilt for the way she spoke to Gigi at the party, knowing that she had been nothing but kind to her the past week they had lived together.

“Here.” Crystal stopped, pointing at the signpost marking their spot, remembering the day they buried their time capsule as if it were yesterday.

***

“Is this a report card?” Crystal laughed as she shone her torch at the paper in front of her.

“Oh my god, yes!” Gigi took the paper in her hands. “I didn’t want my Mom to find out I got a C in music class.”

“Classic Gigi.” Crystal sighed.

Pulling out the friendship bracelet she had made years before, Gigi gasped before grabbing Crystal’s arm and sliding it on. “As if it still fits.”

As the girls waded their way through cinema tickets and keyrings, they found themselves falling back into their old selves more and more - getting lost in conversation as the night faded away and the sun started to rise.

“I don’t remember this being in here.” Crystal pulled out a photograph of the pair of them in Missouri, aged fourteen, grinning like idiots on Crystal’s grandma’s porch.

Flipping it over, she recognised Gigi’s sophisticated scrawl on the back::

This week I finally got to go with Crystal when she visited home. It was so amazing because I hate it so much when she isn’t here, nothing is fun. When I’m with Crystal I don’t have to be perfect - I wish we could grow old together, just the two of us in our own land away from everyone else, everything would be so, so much easier.

There was more but Crystal stopped, looking up to her best friend’s nervous face to realise it was blurry. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.

“Crystal.” Gigi wiped her tears away with her thumb, only leaving her hands on her friend’s cheeks once she was done.

They were freezing yet it made Crystal’s whole body burst up in flames.

Crystal thought of all the sleepless nights and daydreams where she’d pictured this moment.

Somehow it was better than all of them combined.

Their lips touched, soft at first, gentle, afraid to hurt each other. Then their kiss grew deeper, it was hungry, passionate, it had been locked in a cage for years and years only finally to be released.

Crystal didn’t know how long they’d been kissing for when Gigi pulled away, but she wouldn’t have minded if it had been forever.

“I was scared. A scared girl who pushed you away instead of accepting who I was. It’s more, Crystal, you know it’s more. It’s always been more.”

Crystal nodded, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders as she carried on her choked sentences.

“This past week, as corny as it sounds I didn’t just find you again, I found the old me.”

“Well, we’re both here to stay,” Crystal whispered before pulling the girl into another embrace which somehow dared to be better than their last. “Come on, you’re shivering, let’s get you home.”

***

Crystal woke with the sun beaming through the window, her body perfectly entwined with Gigi’s.

At first, she thought she had dreamt it: their kiss at the meadow, the way she went to sleep on the floor and felt Gigi’s arm drop down from her bed, her breasts soft as silk and her moans sending Crystal insane. 

But the way Gigi’s head nestled into her collarbone told her she hadn’t.

She wanted to freeze the moment in a frame and relive it forever - the fear hitting her that Gigi would act cool like it was no big deal.

She lay a kiss on her head before making her way for a shower - the first time all week that she hadn’t woken up to Gigi perfecting her makeup or already dressed- the perfect girl’s routine thrown out the window as she lay in bed.

After returning from the shower, she noticed Gigi was awake, rushing to get ready.

“C’mon.” She looked Crystal up and down. “We’ll be late.”

***

Crystal’s palms became heavy with sweat as she sat next to Gigi on the bench. 

Maybe she regretted it. Maybe it was some sort of sick joke. Why hadn’t she spoken about it? Was she being off with her, or was she just tired?

Crystal felt sick, checking her phone for the time: seven twenty-five.

She couldn’t wait till Nicky got here, the sight of Gigi’s face next to her sending her brain into spirals of existentialism.

She thought about this time on Monday. How much had changed in a week? Or in reality how much it had gone back to the way it was before.

Whatever would happen next she just thanked God/the man who fitted her water heater that at least it happened - the love bite on her neck marking that no one could take this away from her.

Maybe Gigi would go further in denial - Crystal watched her as she tapped her foot on the ground.

“Are you not gonna give me a headphone?” Gigi smiled at her, snapping Crystal’s mind of doubt back to reality, feeling Gigi’s hand fall onto her thigh. “I fancy some One Direction.”

Pulling her phone out in excitement, Crystal’s mood quickly dipped back as she read the time: seven twenty-nine.

“Nicky will be here for you in a minute.” She gave a disheartened smile and put her phone back in her pocket.

“Oh.” Gigi moved her hand over the top of Crystal’s and grinned. “I told her not to come, figured I ought to get the bus today.”

[zelgadis55]

Chapters: 35/35 Fandom: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Michelangelo (TMNT), Leonardo (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Raph, Casey Jones, April O'Neil, Splinter (TMNT), Hun (TMNT), Klunk (TMNT) Additional Tags: Literature, fan fiction, Drama, Dimensional Crossover, 2k12 Mikey in the 2k3 universe, Family Feels, 2k3 side of AOtGO, AOtGO, slow acceptance, Bad Dreams, Survivor Guilt, Crossover, 2k3/2k12 crossover Series: Part 1 of AOtGO Summary:

 Lost and alone in another reality, one turtle must try to find his way home. All while trying to forge a place amongst a family who lost one of their own under horrible circumstances and seemingly resents his very presence. No OC's. Set: 2k3 up until 'Good Genes'. 2k12 up until 'The Good, the Bad and Casey Jones'. 

Comments, thoughts and concrit is always welcome.

                               And One to Grow On                                               Ch 34                                            epilogue

“You've been through this,” Donnie eventually turned to Michelangelo anxiously. “Is there anything I can do to help him or make him feel more comfortable?”

Blanching at the reminder, Mikey shook his head sadly as he watched Leo from a distance. “Not really, dude,” he answered sombrely. “Nothing got through to me until it started wearing off. I mean, some distant part of me noticed I was hurt or cold or thirsty, even that my legs were killing me from just standing so still but it was like it just didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was doing what I was told, whether it was attacking you guys or standing in one spot until I was told otherwise,” he explained quietly, repeatedly pulling lightly at the elastic of his left elbow pad before releasing it to snap back against his inner elbow in a visible display of just how upset he really was about all this. "The worst part was when I started getting my mind back but my body wouldn't obey me yet.”

“I see...” Donnie muttered despondently. “In that case, perhaps it would be better if I sedate Leo after all.”

“No, don't,” Michelangelo insisted again, his demeanour seemingly distant. Yet Donnie could see his attention fixated on Leo.

“Why not?” Donnie asked gently. “Everything you just said makes me think it would be kinder to help Leo sleep through this and we know the sedative won't have any ill effects when mixed with that chemical in his system.”

Mikey shook his head and looked up at Donnie. “I dunno, dude. I just...” His voice petered out and he moved towards Leo. Upon reaching home, they'd removed Leo's mask to be able to see his eyes and Michelangelo was focused intently on whatever he could see in their dull, emotionless depths. Despite Donnie's small protest, he stepped closer. Leonardo turned his head, watching Michelangelo the way a cat watches its prey but he didn't otherwise make a move. Mikey smiled warmly down at him and reached out a hand to rest on Leo's comfortingly.

“Mikey!” Raph choked in disbelief. “Get away from him! He's dangerous!”

“It's okay,” Mikey said softly, more to Leo than to Raph or even Donnie. “Everything's gonna be okay,” he promised.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3956152/chapters/83752957   or   https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10696178/35/And-One-to-Grow-On

[redshoesnblueskies]

from my 2020 Faves & Saves update page:  Fanfic culture, AO3 origins going right back to strikethrough, fandom history.....

SO. MANY. LINKS.

so many goodies under the cut!

these are all links to my tumblr - i did not write very many of them, but i know my links will remain the same and not be lost :)

The master post of upholding and celebrating fanfic, by @inkandcayenne :

‘I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/621654927974055936/inkandcayenne-tywinning-asked-you-2012-08-09

.

HISTORY OF FANDOM CULTURE FROM LJ TO AO3

'What you are doing when you say “If you don’t want crit, don’t post your story” is gatekeeping, and in a REALLY harmful way. Without fans creating work (fanfiction or art or meta), there is no fandom. You’re not only saying “you can’t be in fandom if you don’t want to be hurt” you’re actively calling for fandom to be cut down. That’s a bad thing. Fandom needs creator content in order to exist and grow.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/186058432379/so-if-youve-watched-my-general-meltdown-about

Foz: straight dudes of the world…read fanfic:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230785234/fozmeadows-totallyevillisa

foz: on depression and hurt/comfort

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230730609/on-depression-and-hurtcomfort

fantastic Foz posts from a while ago, addressing the ‘well just censor content and then you’re not godless heathens’ fallacy…

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230530849/fantastic-foz-posts-from-a-while-ago-addressing

Fanfiction & Capitalism, and Why I Think They Are Related [TW for homophobia, mentions of sexual violence, capitalism]

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230748619/fanfiction-capitalism-and-why-i-think-they-are

Fair use is authorized by law

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230721574/fyeahcopyright-heidi8-fair-use-is-wholly

fantastic breakdown of the sociology that led from LJ community culture to tumblr anonymous disconnected culture:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/611096897406615552/kanna-ophelia-taraljc-kanna-ophelia

'The Places Fandom Dwells: A cautionary Tale’ - EXCELLENT, LOTS OF LINKS

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179355549419/the-places-fandom-dwells-a-cautionary-tale

'It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/173587593934/bonehandledknife-feynites-theskaldspeaks

.

BIG AO3 POSTS - HISTORY OF FANDOM

great breakdown of stats on how HUGE AO3 actually is…

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230519234/why-are-people-still-up-in-arms-about-ao3-needing

another breakdown of how huge AO3 is & intricate skills required to run it

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179336300829/hey-ao3-can-you-like-give-the-extra-38k-you-made

AO3 is in the top 300 biggest websites in the WORLD/how a huge site like this works

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230400619/hey-ao3-can-you-like-give-the-extra-38k-you-made

origin story of AO3 - very sweet  (10th anniversary of AO3)

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230398054/on-the-ao3-all-these-years-later

this blogger remembers when we didn’t have AO3

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179391607249/this-blog-is-unrepentantly-pro-ao3

adults built fandom - who runs cons? who runs AO3 & the legal team at OTW? codes the servers?

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179430883009/naryaflame-vanimore-askragtatter-rsasai

“AO3 IS OUR SITE.  It is by fans, for fans. Fans do all the coding. All the legal paperwork. All the abuse/tos violation complaints. Fans make all the choices about policies. Fans decide how to run the fundraisers. Fans write the blog posts. All the volunteer staff are fans; all the people who train them are fans. Fans wrangle all the tags.”

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/188239677029/purge-of-2002-of-2012-what-are-those

'Certain people are screaming that AO3 is bad because it’s not a “safe space.” The real problem they have, though, is that AO3 was created to be a safe space - for writers.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/165199049719/rapacityinblue-kaciart-rocket-sith

.

FANDOM HISTORY & CULTURE

copperbadge - fandom dad explains concrit & why it’s not welcome without specific request

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/186983936704/question-as-an-oldster-and-fandom-lurker-since

fanfic/fanart is a gift - respect it in the way you respect something freely given

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/187512037844/trickztr-friendly-reminder-that-fan-made

'Toxic Fandom: Chen Criticism and Entitlement Go Too Far’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179392060549/toxic-fandom-when-criticism-and-entitlement-go

an explanation of the anti’s as very damaged authoritarianism

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230513414/freedom-of-fanfic-freedom-of-fanfic

why do fangirls always make them gay?

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/162428018414/why-do-fangirls-always-make-them-gay

fandom history through the ages and across continents

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/129594965539/teashoesandhair-ogress-jhameia

one of several versions of a HUGE history post educating people on why we need a non-censored AO3 & why this is vital (and how misinformed many fans are)

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230393414/theothersarshi-redshoesnblueskies

another version: https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/173741270214/grison-in-space-veronica-rich

conversation on AO3 tagging (plus being screwed by censorship

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179391926284/except-that-no-one-uses-tags-like-fetishized

how AO3 is run by volunteer & how to volunteer yourself

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230390519/in-kind

Ao3 fund drive post that goes into why they don’t censor

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230054009/anarfea-anarfea-people-keep-asking-how-can

what 'Archive of Our Own’ refers to

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179136825394/what-archive-of-our-own-refers-to

AO3’s transparent financial reporting & a good rant

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179136341494/ao3-donation-drive

a short explanation of LJ strikethrough

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179124456874/telarna-meeedeee-bomberqueen17-i-just

.

LIGHTER FARE

origin of the ! - the “bang path’ in fandom pairings :D

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/118991314994/hey-whats-up-with-the-in-fandoms-ie-fat

can we PLEASE have an AO3 rating system for books & media?? pleeeeease???  here’s some thoughts on how:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/119377580254/crowd-sourced-content-warnings-at-book-stores

LJ was my initial experience of examining how fic fits into these huge gaps left by conventional writing, media and daily IRL conversation/education - the kind of healing that fic can bring to both individuals and a collective body of both knowledge and healthy questioning of assumptions about sexuality as a whole.  I mean, the kind of absolutely common place knowledge about consent, power dynamics, experimentation to determine what one’s own sexuality looks like, and the the options available is extraordinary.  To have that breadth and depth of knowledge presented in an often beautifully creative format; where you could discuss with the author and other readers anything included in the fic and what it meant to both literature and real life, as well as all things fannish that one’s wild imagination could come up with…. good god what I would have given for that information as a teen.  

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/122835116349/bonehandledknife-redshoesnblueskies

Fandom Is…. (poem)

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/124514359704/fandom-is-focus-fandom-is-obsession-fandom-is

Can fandom bring back the concept of a squick? Pleeeease?

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/126342903959/can-fandom-bring-back-the-concept-of-a-squick

'so don’t pretend it can’t be done, author dudes, because there’s a million fangirls who can write lyric filthy devastating character-revealing plot-advancing poetic tender wall-slamming trope-inverting panting sweaty trope-embracing aching crying sex…..and can do it far far better than you.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/124171180589/sex-is-hard-to-write-about-because-you-lose-the

'It’s just fanfic…’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/126188502159/its-just-fan-fic

“Ship means something you want to see happen.” Bitch, no it don’t.

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179234734799/pyrebomb-ship-means-something-you-want-to-see

why can you sell fanart, but not fanfic??

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/128782763684/legal-side-of-tumblr-can-you-answer-me-a

humor: different types of fanfic - in graphics:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/129402064267/justanotherfmablog-yougothenigo

THE SUFFERING ARTIST CONCEPT IS BULLSHIT AND SHOULD BE BLOWTORCHED:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/186461152949/zendarkwalkerx-magicianmew-katiecrenshaw

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/166161827744/if-one-more-person-says-what-if-theyd-medicated

.

IF YOU’VE MADE IT THIS FAR, YOU DESERVE STARSHIPS (SCROLL DOWN):

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/138038043884/samati-saathi1013-tygermama-zillah975

[tarysande]

To critique or not to critique (of the unsolicited kind)

Spoiler alert: I firmly belong to the not camp.

A post just crossed my dash that put the worst taste in my mouth. I don’t want to reblog it, but I do want to address the contents because I think the subject is super important.

The post basically boiled down to: fanfic writers are thin-skinned babies “these days” because no one can take constructive criticism. In “my day” we all sent page-long critiques like the dedicated heroes we were! It made us better writers! Moreover, if I didn’t like something, I told the writer all about it! It was my job!

Hold up, what?

I’ve been posting fanfic online since 1998. Twenty years. Pre-archives. And “in my day” we had betas if we wanted/needed/asked for them (whose critiques didn’t have an audience). We said “concrit welcome” if we actually wanted constructive criticism. We did not show up unannounced to point out a work’s flaws because that is rude. Look, I am an editor. People pay me real money to edit things for them. I would rather cut off my own fingers than burst into someone’s comments and start “critiquing” their work without being asked first.

Here’s something that needs to be addressed: fanfiction is real writing, yes, but it is, by its nature as something that isn’t monetized, a hobby. As in, a thing people do for fun. A thing that hopefully brings both authors and readers joy! The story an author posts is a gift; how dare anyone rip a gift apart in front of the gift-giver and all the other party attendees? How entitled and ungrateful can you be? Fandom is not a frigging battleground where authors learn to harden themselves for war. It’s a hobby. Done out of love and enthusiasm. 

Yes, some fanfiction writers (certainly not all!!) aspire to be original fiction writers. They may use fanfiction as a training ground. They may want or benefit from constructive criticism. Still, they have to ask. They have to start the conversation. I know (think?) it’s harder to find betas these days, but it’s always worth asking around if real critique is what you want. Put “concrit welcome and even begged for” in the author’s notes and hope someone takes you up on it. 

Some fanfiction writers with original fiction aspirations still don’t want criticism about their fic. Fic may be their fun-writing outlet. It may be about instant gratification (and there’s nothing wrong with that; we’re not in the business of denying ourselves pleasure out of some moral superiority here. It’s fandom). It may be the place where they post to get around their fears of showing things to others. It may be the place they take risks they wouldn’t in their original work because the stakes are lower. When you work on your original writing all day, every day---often putting that work through far more vigorous and exhausting paces than fanfic sees---the last thing you want is someone showing up during your time off to point out a frigging comma splice or shift in POV.

The point is unless someone asks for critique, you don’t know what’s going on with them. Maybe fic is the only fun thing they have in their lives. Maybe they’re writing in a different language. Maybe they are 14. Or 82. Maybe they’ve never written fiction of any kind before and this is their baby step forward. Maybe fic is just escapism. Maybe they are depressed or anxious as hell and criticism is going to push them over an edge. Fandom belongs to everyone. Not just people deemed “good” or “perfect” or “permitted” or “thick-skinned.” People don’t need to be saved from grammar mistakes or poor turns of phrase or even plotholes so wide a semi could drive through them. Authors sure as hell don’t need to be told when a reader just doesn’t like something. There is no fandom police force in charge of perfection. If critique is so important to you, advertise your willingness to beta. If you do not like a story or think it’s “bad” hit the freaking back button. 

Unsolicited criticism is not helpful. Maybe you just catch someone off-guard and startle them. At worst, you may totally shatter someone’s self-esteem while they are partaking in a hobby they 100% do for fun---and not in pursuit of some unattainable perfection.

Don’t ruin a stranger’s day or week or hobby because you “know better” and somehow think you need to prove it. You don’t.

[saltoftheao3]

[1/6 (Sorry!)] Lately I've seen posts in the vein of "Don't leave unsolicited concrit that's just called being an asshole" and that culture is a bit puzzling to me. Personally, I write long comments. Rarely under 100 words, usually 400-1500 (I hit the AO3 character limit all the time), almost always after re-reading the work (I read a lot on my phone but re-access the fics on my laptop for comments). I talk about my reaction to the story, gush about the ship, quote fave parts, all that stuff.

[2/6] As a writer myself, I also pay a lot of attention to people’s style and the technical aspects, and this is what I sometimes give concrit-like opinions about. Not story choices or headcanons, not random typos or anything, but I might say “I had a bit of a hard time following who was saying which lines in this section” or “the changing tenses in this part threw me off the loop for a bit”. I try to frame those things as personal opinions and say it’s up to the author if they want to -  

[3/6] heed the advice or not. I’m not advocating the “tough love” type of feedback, either. At 14 I was targeted by some random adult in dA who methodically ripped apart everything I uploaded for months. I responded politely but I was pretty upset by her constant barraging disguised as helpful advice. (I just went to see her profile and interestingly she hasn’t been active at all since I eventually blocked her) So I know that the concept of concrit absolutely can be abused and how that feels.            

[4/6]But in the past months I’ve seen a lot of people say that even 1-2 slightly critical sentences in a 1000+ word comment invalidates all the positives and “just leaves a sour taste”. Obviously I can’t say what people do or don’t feel but…I was honestly surprised by this mindset. I always assumed that when I write “Let me hear your thoughts” on my notes, it means “tell me what’s good and what’s bad”. Now I feel a bit weird about the positive comments I have - are they holding something back?    

[5/6] Thing is, what made me quit writing for 5 years was not crushing feedback, but deafening silence. If I could choose between someone honestly engaging with my work, including its shortcomings, and not saying anything at all, I will take the criticism any day. I feel that explicitly asking for concrit deters the keysmashers and the cute one-line commenters, so I haven’t done that (I already say I welcome pretty much all feedback in my profile, but it seems no one reads those in AO3).      

[6/6] Of course feedback is subjective and readers have no way of knowing what the author was thinking. BUT, I’d like to think readers are intelligent humans whose subjective views CAN be helpful. This is not a simple issue, and I’ll probably be even more careful about commenting in the future, but I simply can’t agree with posts that pretend there is zero difference between tearing a story apart and mentioning one suggestion in an essay of praise. (Some PM system in AO3 would be great tho) 

First of all, thank you for your very thoughtful and well-phrased ask, dear anon. I always fear that i don’t do that kind of ask justice but i’ll try my best, sorry for the time it has taken me.    

There’s been very different arguments in this debate, (check #the great comment debate), and i think you’re far from the only one with this opinion.

I do too think that there’s a difference between “tearing a story apart and mentioning one suggestion in an essay of praise“, as you said it, and i think the kind of feedback you described yourself as giving would be well-received by a big majority of writers.

And as I mention here and there, i think that assuming friendly intent is crucial to internet interaction, that lacks so much of the intonations and cues we use to understand what someone means.

I also sometimes fear that this entire debate leads to readers chosing not to give feedback at all, rather than risking hurting sensibilities, and well … that’s really not the point. “[C]rushing feedback” or “deafening silence“? Both are toxing to fandoms, both kill the joy in creating, but i really think there’s a lot of room to navigate in between.

What i try to do is get writers to make it a habit of specifying in the author’s notes what kind of feedback you enjoy. It seems to me the only reliable way of producing statisfactory interaction for readers and writers, to make up for the huge variety of attitudes towards fandom and feedback. Some of you may remember i’ve suggested it as an AO3 feature a long while back, but in the meantime just an author’s note with “I love all kinds of comments, long, short, criticism or not” or “Comments make me happy, but please no bashing” could do wonder to clarify things for the readership.

Also, if this can reassure you, i really don’t think your readers were holding back when they said positive things, nonnie.

Personally, when i read fanfic i just… genuinely don’t pay attention to potential flaws and weaknesses? That’s not the way i engage with the material. When reading fanfic, i’m more likely to spot gorgeous sentences, funny bits and great worldbuilding, and to try and remember them so i can tell the writer.

The more awkward or dull parts just..don’t register much, i kinda gloss over them and don’t try to actively keep them in my mind. It’s completely different when i beta-read: there i pay attention to both what i really like and what i’m indifferent towards, i’m in a very different mindset.

I don’t think that “positivity bias” makes my comments less honest.

Pffffuh, this has turned into unstructured rambling, sorry for that (but also my browser has crashed three times so i’ll just put the blame on that). Hope you continue to delight writers with long, thoughtful reviews, those are SO nice to get

[yumearashi]

The nonexistent right and wrong of creativity

So a few of my tumblr friends have been having a very lively debate lately about whether it’s okay to leave unasked-for concrit on fanfiction (spoiler: the answer is no - always ask if first if the author welcomes concrit, and if they say no then hold your peace and move along).

I think many people forget that disliking something does not make it objectively bad.  You might think a story is garbage or have tons of opinions on what the author should have done differently, but they’re just that.  Opinions.  Inherently subjective.  Even if the author made all the changes recommended in your concrit, it wouldn’t make the story better - just more to your personal liking.  Another reader might feel that those exact same changes ruined it (and possibly even leave their own concrit telling the author to take it out!)

If I'm eating dinner at a friend’s house and they serve asparagus soup, I won't like it because I don't like asparagus.   But that doesn't mean the soup is bad - it might be the best asparagus soup ever made.  The only thing my dislike means is that it's not to my own personal taste.  I might politely decline, or I might be adventurous and try it but then quietly not finish my bowl, but I'd be rude as hell to say it's terrible or that they should have served some other soup instead. 

Oh, and for all the folks in the audience currently going ‘but it IS objectively bad!’ - there is no such thing as objectively bad because it's CREATIVE writing.  You want to write the most floridly purple prose you can come up with just to see if you can make Hemingway spin in his grave?  Go nuts!  You want to do an experimental dialogue-only fic with two characters speaking single words back and forth?  Cool, good luck!  Single-sentence stories?  Million word fic? Raw RP logs?  A story from the viewpoint of a character’s pet goldfish?  May the muses bless you with the perfect words.  There are no rules in fanfiction. 

Personally, I find most 'rules’ for How To Write Proper Fiction to be pretentious snobbery whose only weight is that people were told to do it this way by an authority figure of some kind - it doesn't actually make a story any better, and disobeying it doesn't make a story any worse.  And frankly it doesn't matter to me whether it comes from a professional editor with a major publishing house or the Professor Emeritus of Creative Writing at Harvard University - I simply don't care.  Your life as a writer began the day you started to develop your writing?  That's great for you, I truly wish you all the best in your journey of constant improvement.  The day MY life as a writer began is the day I stopped letting other people tell me how and what to write.  No one's telling you that you shouldn't want to improve as a writer - why are you telling anyone else that they should?

[butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker]

What makes a bad community?

Do you ever come across a community where you cannot *believe* the level of drama being produced?

I've been mulling this over and some of the factors might be...

Important parts of your contribution cannot be measured: ie LGBT, religion, your realness or validity cannot be objectively assessed, requiring power plays to be perceived as the best

Not actually competitive: if you play chess, sports, wargames there is an objective, agreed way to judge who is the best, unlike an art hobby

Attracts especislly vulnerable, young or drama prone people: people who are secure in themselves don't make this kind of drama. People who need attention and validation do.

One or two extremely bad eggs in leadership/tastemaker positions: these people set the tone for acceptable behavior, and chase off more reasonable voices.

Money: the hobby is expensive, and thus stressful to invest in (what if I can't afford it? What if I can, but still don't get the attention I crave?), and envy-provoking to participate in; access to expensive books, equipment, collectibles etc is unjustly craved by some and unkindly flaunted by others.

Money: some participants are semi-pro or pro, leading to bad blood when transactions go wrong, plus an imbalance of talent or skill favouring a niche group to the detriment of unskilled amateurs; loyalties to artists or hatred of them, fanned or encouraged by the artists themselves who are small time enough to be to be doing their own marketing

Scarcity: obvs, online there is the attention economy. However, limited edition anything, or competition for sex, for funding, scholarships, publication etc makes true comradeship complicated

Potential for politics: you really can't discourse about origami. Other hobbies, however, are more prone to divisive and deep-cutting faultlines which produce a lot of interaction. Discourse - even the needed kind - always leads to bitterness.

Bad behavior rewarded: people who are unkind and overblown are promoted, rewarded or amplified, normalising this as a way to participate.

An external, rather than internal, facing hobby: buying teddy bears is external, you buy them to own them and so what you're getting from community is others looking at what you have (and threatening your access to limited edition bears). Something like sewing, music or painting does at least require a lot of private time spent engaged in a craft: the core of the hobby is away from community spaces, done for oneself and by oneself

Level of personal investment in this identity/community: if I've invested $500 in a custom doll, then criticism of it (or the artist, or the TV show its from) is by extention criticism of ME. If I've made some origami boxes, criticism is asshole behavior but it was low investment and easier to brush off.

Other things in common: are you making friendships with people who happen to share a hobby, or are relationships in the community superficial, almost like networking, always on the level of the hobby. Are you invested in one another as people, or as content providers/rivals/followers etc? Does the community structure help you make these kinds of connections?

At least some people who enjoy participating in the drama as much or more than the actual hobby; or in any case, their blog is more devoted to drama

Important unenforced rules which some people are devoted to enforcing: one or a group of people have found purpose in enforcing a particular value, standard, requirement for the hobby. Although their cause may have merit, the vehemence and bitterness with which it is pursued comes to dominate their experience of the hobby, and the community space. There is a constant risk of being discovered and mobbed by this group.

(This has two aspects - the first being, is it the kind of community where rules are both important but unfixed, or necessary but impossible to enforce. The second being, does the community have people who have invested their identity in demanding this standard is met. Think drama about counterfeit collectibles, scammers, untrustworthy traders; and also things like, ace discourse, terf discourse, transmed discourse)

No walled gardens: you have to participate through the main community. It's too small to splinter, or too concentrated in one place (online or irl), and you cannot effectively bar nasty people or opt out of experiencing drama first or 2nd hand

(Note: this post is not about abuse spaces or predatory people, just places which have persistent low level nonsense in a way which really...bums out the hobby and makes it more stressful than it ought to be)

Other ideas? Concrit welcomed.

[gaylegohell]

All You Zombies

I know where I came from--- but where did all you zombies come from?

Ch. 1

[[WELCOME BACK!!! Please enjoy this new-and-improved 2017 version of All You Zombies!! Thanks always to @cleversnail for his beta and concrit and generally being excited and supportive]]

Feat: Bad Cop and GHOST BENNY

Warnings: Swears, blood

In 1987 the spaceship Gemini V burned up on reentry. The ship and her crew were on the return flight from a moonbase resupply mission when a piece of debris the size of a football tore through the left wing of the craft as she approached deorbit. She broke apart in the atmosphere, falling to pieces over a field in California, her brave crew with her. They were mourned as heroes. There was little to recover. A few tiles, a charred piece of equipment. The only thing not burnt beyond recognition was a helmet with the visor cracked straight down the middle.

A memorial was built in their honor at the Space Corps campus, the helmet on display as a reminder of those who gave their lives to touch the stars.

As it so often happens, exhibits shuffled and memories faded. But the memorial remained, with the helmet and the other artifacts, while other exhibits sprung up around it at the Space Corps' Air and Space Museum. It was then things turned unusual.

The memorial and the Space Gallery it was housed in were plagued with unusual noises. Planes in other parts of the museum swung on updrafts when the air was deathly still. And more often than not the cracked helmet would fall off its pillow and violently smash against its plexiglass prison.

A good night security guard was hard to keep. Any night security guard was hard to keep, for that matter. Stories of the museum being haunted spread like wildfire. The 30th anniversary of the Gemini V crash was quickly approaching and the director was desperate to get a new security guard, and hopefully bring some peace to the museum at the same time.

Bad Cop was having a hard time adjusting to life off the police force. Even the nickname stuck. He was badly injured in the line of duty and left with fucked up eye and a bad knee. It was kindly suggested he take his retirement and enjoy his new life. They would carry on without him.

But he's restless, anxious without a job, and sitting around his apartment just makes his knee ache more. His assistant chief keeps in close contact with him, thank God for her, and passes along word that the Air and Space Museum is hiring. Security. Graveyard shift. They couldn't keep anyone longer than a few weeks. B leaps at the chance. Night shift with no one around? Sign him the fuck up.

He has impressive credentials and he's hired right on the spot.

"Thank you, Officer O'Neill, you'll get--" the museum director says, offering her hand.

"O'Neill will do," B grumbles fiercely. Not strictly an officer anymore, though he still carries himself like one.

"Of course, sir," she stammers. She holds the door open for him.

"You'll start tomorrow night, if that's alright. Don't let the other guards scare you," she adds.

B snorts. Like anyone could scare him.

B shows up to his first shift 15 minutes early in his new white and starched uniform, waiting for his supervisor while everyone else files out for the night. Nearly everyone wishes him "Good luck," under their breath. B scowls behind his aviator sunglasses.

His supervisor rushes in, ring of keys jangling, looking harried and nervous.

"Okay, let's get this over with."

"You in a hurry?" B remarks dryly. His supervisor is all but jogging through the main atrium and B has to take large strides to keep up.

"Ah, well, lots to show you." The supervisor doesn't look at him.

"Hmm," B scowls again.

The museum is spacious: a large wagon wheel with another smaller wheel inside. They make their way out from the rotunda, making a right and following the path through the history of early flight, from Wright flyers to biplanes to fighter jets. B makes a mental note to come back and explore the exhibits once he's on his own.

There's an uneasy silence without the air conditioning running, without the sound of people. The shadows of the planes suspended from the ceilings cast odd sharp shadows along the walls. B's supervisor is far from at ease.

"So the, uh, break room is here once you walk through the Pavilion of Flight here, and it takes you to the rest of the museum. The break room has lockers and showers and vending machines and all that good stuff." The supervisor motions to the glass rotunda above them, "and I'll show you where the CCTV is."

He then turns on his heel and follows the curve of the museum wing back through where they came from.

B thinks it odd they're retracing their steps and he's barely listening to his supervisor telling him which doors need to be locked once the museum is empty of guests for the day. Maybe it's his ruined eye playing tricks, but he swears he sees the shadows dancing and following the two men back through the museum.

"So you can sit at this desk here at the front," the supervisor says, visibly sweating now and checking over his shoulder. "This is where the day guards sit and watch the cameras. You can cycle through them here and you don't have to walk through the museum."

"What's in the rest of the museum," B says. It's not a question.

"The, um. Space Gallery. You don't have to walk through there. Don't even worry about it."

B raises an eyebrow and a faint breeze plays across the desk.

"Hm," B says again. Something's up and he doesn't like the feel of it.

With that, the supervisor unclips the massive ring of keys from his belt and deposits it unceremoniously on the desk.

"Your training manual is there, if you have any questions. And if, um...anything weird happens, call me on the radio."

"Like kids throwin' rocks, eh?" B tries a smile. The supervisor gives him a panicked look instead.

"Alright. Well. Good luck, Officer--."

Before B can correct him, he's out the door and locking it behind him.

"Bunch of feckin' lunatics around here," B mutters to himself. He clips the keys to his belt, grabs the flashlight from off the desk, and goes about his rounds.

It's not so bad, really. It's dark and quiet, just how he likes it. No paperwork. No constant noise of the police scanner.

A shadow flickers on his right side just out of his line of sight. This unreliable goddamn eye. His rubs it fiercely.

BANG. CRASH.

It sounds harsh. Metal on metal.

"God almighty." B reaches for his sidearm but finds the flashlight instead. He sighs. Sounds like it came from the "forbidden" Space Wing of the museum. He straightens his uniform with a sharp tug and a determined glint in his eye. Like hell he was gonna sit at a desk all night with intruders roaming around.

B hardly notices the Memorial Wing and completely walks past it until another BANG draws his attention back to it. He clutches his flashlight and grits his teeth. Someone is obviously playing a prank. He remembers what the museum director said. Don't let the other guards scare you. He takes a few steps into the wing, sweeping his flashlight into every corner.

"Who's there?" he growls.

No answer.

The dark mahogany-paneled room is dim, all the lights off save a few recessed lights in the ceiling, reflecting off the glass cases of artifacts. Spotlights are turned towards crew photos--those who gave their lives in the name of science and exploration. All the spotlights are off, except one. B makes his way towards it, flashlight at the ready.

B doesn't remember the photograph of the Gemini V crew being so brightly lit when he walked in. The crew smiles back at him and the card on the wall informs him the crew perished in an accident in 1987. He vaguely remembers watching the news coverage of it when he was nine or ten. The worst space disaster to date. The poor crew looked so young. Five young men and women in blue flight suits, a redhead with a bright smile and summer freckles grinning for all his life in the middle of them. B nods his respects to the memorial and heads back into the space exploration wing.

"HEY."

B whirls around but he can see no one. He curses his eye again, rubbing it angrily, his aviators balanced on his forehead.

"Quit messin’ or I'll call the police," B shouts into the darkness. He raises his flashlight menacingly. It does little to pierce the gloom of the enormous space.

Three sharp raps come again from the Memorial Wing.

The hair on the back of B's neck stands on end.

"Listen here, you'd better come out or there will be consequences," B's voice echoes through the halls and he's met with another three sharp raps.

It's coming from the artifact cases.

A cracked helmet has moved off its pillow and fallen on its side. B makes a mental note to tell the director so it can get fixed tomorrow. He leans in for a closer look and the helmet slams itself against the display case.

B almost falls over, stumbling back in shock.

"Janey Mac," he mutters, recovering quickly. Must have been a loose floorboard, or perhaps a slight tectonic shift, he thinks. A lorry driver charging by on the road outside. Right, so. Best to leave it alone. He's got too much to do to let a few odd things get the better of him.

Still, he decides he's going to leave that section well alone for the rest of the night.

B makes his way back through the museum, cautiously avoiding the Space Gallery. He doesn't notice the shadows following him.

Back at the front desk he decides to take a break and crack open the training manual the supervisor gave him, thought it's really nothing more than a three ring binder and a handful of laminated pages. He dutifully thumbs through them, making notes to ask his supervisor about later.

Another loud BANG comes from deep within the museum. B turns to the CCTV at his desk. All is quiet and still. He wills his heart to calm down and turns back to his manual.

Hours pass by with only a handful more bangs and odd shadows. B feels himself settle.

The museum is dark and silent at last. He's alone and it's delightful. He could get used to this.

"Listen dude, I'm pulling out all the stops here and you're gonna ignore me?"

B looks up and tumbles out of his chair, papers falling in every direction.

"What--who the fuck?" B stammers from the floor.

There's a figure sitting cross-legged on his desk. It smiles, flashing a mouthful of broken and bloody teeth. Its blue flight suit is torn and bloodied, mission patches peeling at the corners, name bar burned off.

"I'm calling the police!" B manages to spit as he scrambles to right himself and grabs his flashlight.

"To tell 'em what? That you saw a ghost and got spooked?" The figure laughs and vanishes before B can blink.

B sits in shock on the floor, trying to process what just happened. He can't. It makes no sense. No sense at all. God almighty--did he fall asleep? Did he have a bad dream? A nightmare? Surely that's what this must have been. He runs his hands shakily through his hair, takes several deep breaths. He's very tired. It's been a long night. Stress of the new job and all. And it's been ages since he worked the graveyard shift. He just needs to get used to it once more. Still, it's embarrassing, to be sleeping on the job. He'd best not make that mistake again. He'll bring in his own coffee next shift. B hauls himself back up into his chair and hunkers down with his manual, scanning the CCTV, and waits for morning.

"Good morning, sir!" The supervisor is a little too bright as he unlocks he front door of the museum.

"Mornin'," B nods. It's anything but a good morning. His eye hurts and he's on edge. He wants nothing more than a hot shower and a long nap.

"Anything happ-- how'd it go last night?" The supervisor is almost afraid to ask.

"Wonderful. Whole place was quiet as a mouse," B lies.

The supervisor looks shocked.

"Wait, really? Quiet?"

"Yessir," B says.

The supervisor just looks at him, completely dumbstruck.

"Right, so. See you later tonight then?" B nods, and he's out the door before the supervisor can say anything more.

He drives home, musing about his night. It's definitely not the worst job he's had. And tomorrow is always another day.

--------

[[click here for ch. 2!!]]

[redshoesnblueskies]

Fanfic culture, AO3 origins going right back to strikethrough, fandom history.....

SO. MANY. LINKS.

for those who don’t want to click through:

these are all links to my tumblr - i did not write very many of them, but i know my links will remain the same and not be lost :)

The master post of upholding and celebrating fanfic, by @inkandcayenne :

‘I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/621654927974055936/inkandcayenne-tywinning-asked-you-2012-08-09

HISTORY OF FANDOM CULTURE FROM LJ TO AO3

'What you are doing when you say “If you don’t want crit, don’t post your story” is gatekeeping, and in a REALLY harmful way. Without fans creating work (fanfiction or art or meta), there is no fandom. You’re not only saying “you can’t be in fandom if you don’t want to be hurt” you’re actively calling for fandom to be cut down. That’s a bad thing. Fandom needs creator content in order to exist and grow.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/186058432379/so-if-youve-watched-my-general-meltdown-about

Foz: straight dudes of the world…read fanfic: 

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230785234/fozmeadows-totallyevillisa

foz: on depression and hurt/comfort

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230730609/on-depression-and-hurtcomfort

fantastic Foz posts from a while ago, addressing the ‘well just censor content and then you’re not godless heathens’ fallacy…

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230530849/fantastic-foz-posts-from-a-while-ago-addressing

Fanfiction & Capitalism, and Why I Think They Are Related [TW for homophobia, mentions of sexual violence, capitalism]

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230748619/fanfiction-capitalism-and-why-i-think-they-are

Fair use is authorized by law

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230721574/fyeahcopyright-heidi8-fair-use-is-wholly

fantastic breakdown of the sociology that led from LJ community culture to tumblr anonymous disconnected culture:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/611096897406615552/kanna-ophelia-taraljc-kanna-ophelia

'The Places Fandom Dwells: A cautionary Tale’ - EXCELLENT, LOTS OF LINKS

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179355549419/the-places-fandom-dwells-a-cautionary-tale 

'It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/173587593934/bonehandledknife-feynites-theskaldspeaks

BIG AO3 POSTS - HISTORY OF FANDOM

great breakdown of stats on how HUGE AO3 actually is…

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230519234/why-are-people-still-up-in-arms-about-ao3-needing

another breakdown of how huge AO3 is & intricate skills required to run it

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179336300829/hey-ao3-can-you-like-give-the-extra-38k-you-made

AO3 is in the top 300 biggest websites in the WORLD/how a huge site like this works

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230400619/hey-ao3-can-you-like-give-the-extra-38k-you-made

origin story of AO3 - very sweet  (10th anniversary of AO3)

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230398054/on-the-ao3-all-these-years-later

this blogger remembers when we didn’t have AO3

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179391607249/this-blog-is-unrepentantly-pro-ao3

adults built fandom - who runs cons? who runs AO3 & the legal team at OTW? codes the servers?

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179430883009/naryaflame-vanimore-askragtatter-rsasai

“AO3 IS OUR SITE.  It is by fans, for fans. Fans do all the coding. All the legal paperwork. All the abuse/tos violation complaints. Fans make all the choices about policies. Fans decide how to run the fundraisers. Fans write the blog posts. All the volunteer staff are fans; all the people who train them are fans. Fans wrangle all the tags.”

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/188239677029/purge-of-2002-of-2012-what-are-those

'Certain people are screaming that AO3 is bad because it’s not a “safe space.” The real problem they have, though, is that AO3 was created to be a safe space - for writers.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/165199049719/rapacityinblue-kaciart-rocket-sith

FANDOM HISTORY & CULTURE

copperbadge - fandom dad explains concrit & why it’s not welcome without specific request

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/186983936704/question-as-an-oldster-and-fandom-lurker-since

fanfic/fanart is a gift - respect it in the way you respect something freely given

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/187512037844/trickztr-friendly-reminder-that-fan-made

'Toxic Fandom: Chen Criticism and Entitlement Go Too Far’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179392060549/toxic-fandom-when-criticism-and-entitlement-go

an explanation of the anti’s as very damaged authoritarianism 

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230513414/freedom-of-fanfic-freedom-of-fanfic

why do fangirls always make them gay?

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/162428018414/why-do-fangirls-always-make-them-gay

fandom history through the ages and across continents

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/129594965539/teashoesandhair-ogress-jhameia

one of several versions of a HUGE history post educating people on why we need a non-censored AO3 & why this is vital (and how misinformed many fans are)

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230393414/theothersarshi-redshoesnblueskies

another version:  https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/173741270214/grison-in-space-veronica-rich

conversation on AO3 tagging (plus being screwed by censorship

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179391926284/except-that-no-one-uses-tags-like-fetishized

how AO3 is run by volunteer & how to volunteer yourself

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230390519/in-kind

Ao3 fund drive post that goes into why they don’t censor

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179230054009/anarfea-anarfea-people-keep-asking-how-can

what 'Archive of Our Own’ refers to

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179136825394/what-archive-of-our-own-refers-to

AO3’s transparent financial reporting & a good rant

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179136341494/ao3-donation-drive

a short explanation of LJ strikethrough

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179124456874/telarna-meeedeee-bomberqueen17-i-just

LIGHTER FARE

origin of the ! - the “bang path’ in fandom pairings :D

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/118991314994/hey-whats-up-with-the-in-fandoms-ie-fat

can we PLEASE have an AO3 rating system for books & media?? pleeeeease???  here’s some thoughts on how:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/119377580254/crowd-sourced-content-warnings-at-book-stores

LJ was my initial experience of examining how fic fits into these huge gaps left by conventional writing, media and daily IRL conversation/education - the kind of healing that fic can bring to both individuals and a collective body of both knowledge and healthy questioning of assumptions about sexuality as a whole.  I mean, the kind of absolutely common place knowledge about consent, power dynamics, experimentation to determine what one’s own sexuality looks like, and the the options available is extraordinary.  To have that breadth and depth of knowledge presented in an often beautifully creative format; where you could discuss with the author and other readers anything included in the fic and what it meant to both literature and real life, as well as all things fannish that one’s wild imagination could come up with…. good god what I would have given for that information as a teen.  

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/122835116349/bonehandledknife-redshoesnblueskies

Fandom Is…. (poem)

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/124514359704/fandom-is-focus-fandom-is-obsession-fandom-is

Can fandom bring back the concept of a squick? Pleeeease?

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/126342903959/can-fandom-bring-back-the-concept-of-a-squick

'so don’t pretend it can’t be done, author dudes, because there’s a million fangirls who can write lyric filthy devastating character-revealing plot-advancing poetic tender wall-slamming trope-inverting panting sweaty trope-embracing aching crying sex…..and can do it far far better than you.’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/124171180589/sex-is-hard-to-write-about-because-you-lose-the

'It’s just fanfic…’

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/126188502159/its-just-fan-fic

“Ship means something you want to see happen.” Bitch, no it don’t. 

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/179234734799/pyrebomb-ship-means-something-you-want-to-see

why can you sell fanart, but not fanfic??

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/128782763684/legal-side-of-tumblr-can-you-answer-me-a

humor: different types of fanfic - in graphics:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/129402064267/justanotherfmablog-yougothenigo

THE SUFFERING ARTIST CONCEPT IS BULLSHIT AND SHOULD BE BLOWTORCHED:

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/186461152949/zendarkwalkerx-magicianmew-katiecrenshaw

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/166161827744/if-one-more-person-says-what-if-theyd-medicated

IF YOU’VE MADE IT THIS FAR, YOU DESERVE STARSHIPS (SCROLL DOWN):

https://redshoesnblueskies.tumblr.com/post/138038043884/samati-saathi1013-tygermama-zillah975