#it seems that I pick up this meta writing habit from star wars fandom ._.

[battlestar-royco]

Ive seen how certain str8 YT dude authors R better at writing diversity&Representation than str8 YT women. I think it's cuz there's nothing giving them a shield. When str8 yt dudes listen & understand their privilege & r willing 2 write & do better they actually (try) 2 do better. But str8 yt women. They can hide behind misogony & keep writing their bland str8 YT girl doing bland str8 yt girl shit & pass it off as EMPOWERMENT.

I think about this all the time, holy crap. While I hesitate to say straight white guys are better at writing diversity than straight white women, I DO think both S/W men and women fall into habits that are differently bad. Men tend to tokenize and sexualize the shit out of women and do the “strong female character” thing (AKA one (1) conventionally attractive white girl in an all-men cast who wears tight clothes while stabbing people and giving off a sassy line every now and then; may have been abused by a father/brother/boyfriend in the past; may be secretly yearning to have a child; may get chained up by the villain and then saved by the leading man). Meanwhile, women will write other S/W women and men just fine and then tokenize and abuse the shit out of everyone else. They also might fall into tropes of internalized misogyny while men will fall into tropes of internalized toxic masculinity. All that said, I do think S/W women are generally held up to a far higher standard for diversity than S/W men are for a lot of reasons, some of which being that a lot of times authors write for gendered audiences or their content is marketed in a gendered way. Thus, S/W men writers end up targeting S/W men while S/W women writers target S/W women. Generally, the audience members that are more invested in diversity are women, so audiences of S/W women end up critiquing the creator more than S/W men do. Also, S/W men often view all material through a very privileged lens (due to hetero goggles, male gaze, white/POC empathy gap, etc) that does not pick up on problematic things. I feel like in men-dominated fandom, calling out problematic things is a much less welcome tendency and will get you harassed and discredited far easier whereas women-dominated fandom seems more accepting of discourse.

To speak to your point, I think S/W women get a pass for so much oppressive stuff they do just based on the fact that they’re women, especially from S/W women stans. Also, their stuff is more likely to be marketed as “SUPER FEMINIST SO EMPOWERING” when really it’s the SAME EXACT SHIT WE’VE BEEN SEEING SINCE 1980. For decades, S/W women have been the lead in high concept rom coms, the most desirable love interests, superheroes, overthrowing the government, the Final Girl in almost every ensemble horror movie, etc. Meanwhile the MCU’s first film to feature a lead WOC in her natural skin color came out LAST YEAR (I believe, with Zendaya), after ten years of the MCU. Star Wars still has never featured a lead WOC and has killed off the vast majority of their lead POC despite having 5 white women leads. All the Barbie movies are literally everything wrong with white feminism, creating extremely gendered notions about society, and promoting conventionally attractive white women’s issues over everyone else’s in the name of empowerment. Similarly, there are only four Disney animated princesses of color and they all have the same body type and gender/sexuality. LGBTQ+ people, especially those of color, are nearly invisible in all media. Disability is barely addressed or extremely vilified in these blockbuster genres/franchises. Marginalized people are all just waiting for these same “feminist” S/W women to acknowledge how much longer non-cishet/white people have to wait to see themselves represented like that and how many of us continually get mentally scarred well into adulthood from severe lack of representation like

Furthermore, it is definitely, DEFINITELY true that a lot of privileged women and their stans use gender as a way to excuse their problematic asses and to act like the victim when someone calls them out. I’m not joking, I’ve seen straight white women write elaborate paragraphs, like ten pages’ worth in one post/article, explaining why people calling them/their faves racist, abusive, or homophobic is actually misogynistic instead of trying to sit back and learn COUNTLESS TIMES in COUNTLESS FANDOMS. For example, every time a white woman justifies whitewashing a character of color in favor of a white woman, or every time a new blond/brunette woman is inserted into a huge blockbuster franchise with fifteen other women who look just like her because “we’re all underrepresented” or “the POC talent wasn’t good enough.”

If I took a shot for every time a white woman said to me “you can’t judge x for its time” to excuse lack of diversity in a movie/show/book (AND OFTENTIMES IN THINGS THAT CAME OUT LITERALLY 5-15 YEARS AGO, LIKE THE MCU MOVIES, DISNEY MOVIES, SEX AND THE CITY, LEGALLY BLONDE, OR HBO GIRLS????), I would be dead. I’ve also seen them excuse fetishization of mlm/MOC (and often vilification for MOC) by saying that it’s women “expressing their sexuality” and “supporting rep.” This comes from the same women who wouldn’t touch LGBTQ+/MOC rep with a barge pole if it wasn’t hypersexualized, stereotypical, and/or cis/white. S/W women writers/fans have a huge problem with brutalizing POC and characterizing them overall as violent or abrasive, and giving  Z E R O  F U C K S  about characters who are WOC unless they’re conventionally attractive/light-skinned (and even then it’s very dubious). Time and again they’ll refuse to feel any compassion for POC, write any positive meta on them, give them any benefit of the doubt, draw them in fanart, or ship them with other characters (especially with white characters). Some other age-old excuses are “we’re not ready for [x representation] in a mainstream movie,” word for word “I’m not racist but I just don’t ship it :/” when talking about an interracial ship (especially if one of the characters, usually the man in a m/w ship, is white), “I don’t want to read about gay people/poc lol,” and “race/sexuality shouldn’t matter.”

TL;DR many S/W women have a lot of shit to sort out amongst themselves and it’s really disingenuous of them to act like they’re empowered and they’re fighting the good fight for all women. Their representation isn’t perfect and they do deserve great rep, but so does everyone else, especially because when it comes to diversity white women always come first.

[appreciatedanhowell]

It's So Meta Even This Acronym

"What, you expect us to say something in summary? You haven't even written the damn story yet," Dan said, scowling. 

"Come on, play along," Phil urged, "There's no reason to get on their bad side." 

"I'm not helping them peddle this stupid thing." 

"I think you just did."

Chapter one

 Word Count: 2.3k 

 Warnings: strong language

 Read on ao3 

Excerpt: Dan poured himself cereal and headed to the lounge, where he flopped onto the couch. He couldn't watch anything new—Phil wasn't up, and probably wouldn't be for a few hours. He settled for an old episode of Steven Universe and started on his cereal. 

 A couple of episodes had played when he realized he was staring at the screen without seeing anything. His bowl was empty, sitting on the coffee table. Again, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What had gotten into him? He felt strange the past few days, but it just kept getting worse. Every moment was worse than the last: fuzziness, confusion, disorientation. Maybe he was getting sick. 

Dan sat in his sofa crease, scrolling through tumblr. He had a word document in another window, so he could claim he was writing a script for a video. He scowled as he came across another “rip Dani Snot On Fire” joke. He was really beginning to regret the rebranding. It had seemed so necessary, but it turned out to be so much work. Changing all his social media, changing the links in all his video descriptions, contacting everyone he'd ever done a collab with to ask them to change his information. Maybe he should keep the placentas in the trash but give up on Daniel Howell. It would be months before anyone really knew him as that name…if they ever did. That stupid teenage screen name might stick with him for life, no matter how hard he tried.

He sighed loudly, hoping for sympathy from the man on the other side of the couch. But Phil was absorbed in something on his own laptop and didn't seem to hear. He was still in Star Wars pajamas and Dan had to recheck the time. It was three in the afternoon. They'd been slipping into the habit of slobbing around, sometimes not even changing into real clothes.

Dan realized he'd thought the word “pajamas” instead of “pyjamas”. He shook his head slightly; he'd been spending too much time on the American-dominated internet. He found himself using ‘miles’ and ‘dollars’, too. There was no escaping the Americanisms. Maybe he'd do a video about that. He was certain someone had made a compilation video of every time he used an Imperial measurement or American word. He opened his document of video ideas and jotted it down. He frowned. It was thin, but maybe he could at least shitpost about it.

He stood up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of Ribena. He frowned as he walked back to the living room. Wasn't he supposed to be decoupling himself from Ribena? He couldn't—

Wait. He'd said living room. Had he ever said that before in his life? It was the lounge.

He sat the two glasses down on the coffee table. It caught Phil's attention and he mumbled a thanks before grabbing it and drinking. He was actually writing a script for a video. Dan took another drink then stared blankly at his screen.

The day stretched on. Dan started looking for games for their next video. Phil tapped away at his script. There was evening, and there was morning. Tuesday.

Wednesday saw Dan wake up unusually early. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and groaned. Why was he up at—he checked his phone—seven in the morning? There was no reason for this stupid consciousness.

He gave up with a sigh and threw off his greyscale bedcovers. There was no use sitting in bed trying to sleep when he clearly wasn't tired. He shivered as he sat shirtless. It was unseasonably cool for…fall? He frowned. It had taken him several seconds to remember what season it was. What was going on with him lately?

He got dressed—okay, so it was only a t-shirt and sweatpants. But it was better than pajamas. He ran his fingers through his hair and brushed his teeth. Staring into the mirror, he frowned at himself. It had been a weird couple weeks and his face was showing it. Purplish bags sat under his eyes and he looked paler than he should. He splashed water on his face and some color returned to his cheeks. But his complexion was definitely less olive and more pink than usual—he looked like Phil.

Shaking his head, he flipped the light off and shuffled to the kitchen. He poured himself cereal and headed to the lounge, where he flipped on the television. He couldn't watch anything new—Phil wasn't up, and probably wouldn't be for a few hours. He settled for an old episode of Steven Universe and started on his cereal.

A couple of episodes had played when he realized he was staring at the screen without seeing anything. His bowl was empty, sitting on the coffee table. Again, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What had gotten into him? He felt strange the past few days, but it just kept getting worse. Every moment was worse than the last: fuzziness, confusion, disorientation. Maybe he was getting sick.

He opened his laptop and pulled up his email, intending to respond to business emails. He had gotten through exactly two when he decided he was fed up with them. There were a few too many pointed “Daniel Howell”s to be entirely professional. Why wouldn't people leave him alone about it?

He logged into his Internet Support Group email for shits and giggles. There were hundreds of thousands of unread messages. But these ones weren't overwhelming. He was under no obligation to answer any of them.

He tried to pick earnest ones to read. The funny ones were best read and reacted to on camera. But he probably wasn't doing another ISG for months anyway, and he liked he use relatively fresh ones when he did, so what did it matter? Whatever. He clicked on another with the subject “Should I go to grad school?”

It explained that this student had just finished her degree and was planning on going to a four-year graduate school. But she was feeling burned out. But there were literally no jobs available in her field with only a bachelor's degree. After a lengthy explanation, she said she had been listening to everyone's advice. Her sister told her to stay in school, but a close friend told her to take a break. And somebody once told me—

Dan broke out laughing. He couldn't stop himself—they'd caught him completely off guard. He wiped the corners of his eyes and starred the email to show Phil.

As if on cue, soft thuds echoed down the hall. Phil was tired, he'd seen that Dan was awake, and so he didn't care that he was all but stomping. He fixed himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal and made his way blearily into the lounge.

“Couldn't sleep,” he mumbled by way of explanation. He looked it. His glasses were askew, his hair rumpled, and his mouth set stiffly, as though he'd been grinding his teeth.

“Sorry,” Dan said, moving the television remote to beside Phil's bowl. “Anything you want to watch?”

“This’s fine,” he nodded at the screen and pressed a button to resume the episode that Dan had paused.              

Dan considered showing him the ISG email he'd read, but figured that he'd wait until Phil woke up a little. He wasn't known for his early-morning sense of humor. No, even on the tour, his raven-haired friend—

Dan actually snorted out loud.

“Hmm?” Phil said, not bothering with a full question. Dan shrugged off the feeling of déjà vu.

“Have you ever noticed the fandom leaking into your real life?” Dan asked him. Phil looked blankly at him, so he continued. “Like when you see something on tumblr or read something in fanfiction enough times that you start to incorporate it into the way you think?”

“I don't think so,” Phil said, frowning a little in thought. His voice was still gravelly with sleep. “What happened?”

“I just referred to you as my ‘raven-haired friend’ in my internal monologue,” Dan said, halfway between amused and embarrassed.

“What the heck,” Phil said, laughing. “Stop reading so much fanfic.”

“I know, I know,” Dan said, “Besides, that would require us being friends.” Phil stuck his tongue out at Dan, who just laughed.

“You know, maybe I get it,” Phil said after a moment of thought, “I've seen you portrayed so many times that sometimes I catch myself thinking you're a nice person.”

“What a crock of shit, you never think that.”

“I did once.”

“Psh, when?”

“Do you think I would have wanted to meet you if I knew you were such a dick?” 

Dan reached over and kicked Phil. Not hard enough to hurt, though. Maybe.

The more years that passed, the more they were comfortable teasing each other. They'd grown more secure in their partnership and they'd both become more confident; Dan from 2009 would have been devastated to hear his idol call him a dick.

Then again, Dan thought, 2009 Dan wouldn't have thought his idol would prank him with habanero gummy bears. Or put a banana peel down the back of his shirt on camera. He still hadn't gotten revenge on Phil for that. He'd have to come up with something fittingly awful, but still believable…

Dan spent a few seconds staring at Phil's profile as the latter scrolled away on his laptop. Phil looked tired too. His jaw was still tight. It looked like he'd had several bad nights in a row. Maybe the new house had a gas leak too, Dan thought bitterly. At least it would explain why he felt so strange.

“We should do something,” Dan said suddenly.

“Like what? Why?” Phil asked, surprised, as he looked up from his laptop.

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted, “Something. We’ve been cooped up for too long. It’s weird.”

“We just came back from Vidcon,” Phil reminded him, “Traveling halfway around the world and back isn’t exactly cooped up. And since when do you have a problem staying inside all day?”

“Since the tour,” Dan said, “It’s just one giant letdown since then. Relaxing was good for a while. Now it just feels like nothing.”

“Okay, then, what do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, let me know when you have an idea.”

“Come on, I know you’re just humoring me. Don’t you want to do something? I feel like I’m imploding.”

Phil sighed and closed his laptop. “Honestly, I’m not exactly sure what you’re on about. You’ve been happy to stay put for months now. Did something change?”

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted, rubbing his forehead, “I feel strange. Like something is different or there’s something in the air. I was kind of hoping you’d know what I mean.”

“Tell you what,” Phil said, “I have the next game picked out. We’ll shoot a gaming video then do something. Get out of the house. Whatever you’d like.”

“Can’t we do it now?"

“No. Work comes first.”

Dan groaned. “Yes, Dad.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“I’ll stop when you stop acting like a dad,” Dan said. He pulled himself off the sofa and started to walk to his room.

“I wouldn’t have to act like a dad if you acted like an adult,” Phil said to his back. Dan looked back and stuck his tongue out at Phil. “You’re proving me right!” Phil said, laughing. He, too, had to drag himself up and to his bedroom.

The gaming video went badly. Humorously badly, hopefully. They’d played GeoGuessr and probably offended a wide variety of viewers. They were both well-traveled; who’d have thought they would do so utterly horribly? Dan had bragged about doing geography at A level and then failed spectacularly. But it was a Dan vs Phil and Phil wouldn’t let his win go to waste, so they’d just have to hope that no one was legitimately offended.

Phil turned the camera off and plugged it in to let the footage upload to the computer.

“So, you wanted to go somewhere?” He asked Dan.

“What about the park?” Dan suggested.

“You hate the park,” Phil pointed out, frowning.

“I changed my mind. Just for a bit, okay? Then we’ll order in tonight.”

“Pizza. And you’re paying.”

“Fine,” Dan said, “But we’re leaving right now. So you can’t weasel out of this.” He walked out of the room to put his shoes on.

“What is with you?” Phil asked to his back, shaking his head.

He followed Dan and shoved his shoes on. The younger man waited at the door, bouncing slightly, impatient. When Phil was ready, they stepped out and began the walk. The wind bit at Dan’s face, but he’d left his jacket at home intentionally.

Maybe if he got cold enough, he’d remember how much he hated being outside. He’d want to go back in and hibernate with his laptop. He’d stop being so restless. Or maybe the fresh air would revive him. He wasn’t sure which he wanted more. Anything to stop this bizarre ambiance that apparently only he could feel.