#people like to refer to fandom as playing in a space but kids are taught to ask if they want to play with someone else's toys first

[vimbry]

I kinda feel like there's this weird pushback around people asserting their boundaries online sometimes and I don't really know why. if someone says they don't like a single person liking a large amount of their posts in a short time for whatever reason, a dozen others go, "well I like it when people do that, so everyone is welcome to spam like me". if someone says they don't consider being mutuals to necessarily mean being friends, a dozen others go, "reminder that if we've even glanced at each other even once then we're the bestest friends ever and you can talk to me any time!"

it's not like, morally wrong for people to have preferences for how they'd like others to treat them, and it's strange to try and fight to be the most accommodating kindest nicest doormat ever. I guess the dumb discourse around, you know, colour palette/pose theft or whatever, has made people have more knee-jerk reactions to having an actually reasonable boundary.

[xxasphodelxx]

Not to be all, "back in my day," but I genuinely feel like this attitude is the direct result of these kids not being taught internet safety the way I know people my age were when we were children.

When I was a kid, we were taught that the internet was like the real world in that there were places where children could play safely relatively unsupervised (websites like Club Penguin or Neopets, or sites with flash games), but there were many more places where it was unsafe to wander in without a parent checking things out first or going with you. Those were adult spaces where a kid could theoretically be somewhat safe if there were responsible adults around, but they were not inherently built to be a safe space for kids, so you were told to proceed with caution, because you never knew who the unsafe adults were. This gave us the understanding that as kids, visiting a new website had a risk that we would see or hear something upsetting, so it was our responsibility to be careful about what we clicked on.

And because a lot of these kids grew up using the internet from a very young age and were not taught to be careful about visiting unknown websites or talking to strangers on the internet, they do not have the mentality that the internet at large is an adult space that they are visiting. Which leads them to believe that every space on the internet should be safe for them to enter, and get upset when the adults there tell them no.

And when you have websites like tiktok censoring people constantly to cater to the younger users and yet another movement of what I can only refer to as Puritanical bullshit sweeping through fandom culture (I'm so fucking tired of hearing that no one should like a character or a ship because they're "problematic"), it's not surprising that these kids and teens are baffled when they realize that the rest of the world is not going to self-censor for their comfort. But their ignorance doesn't make their feelings the responsibility of adults who are not their guardians. These kids need to learn to click the back button when they see something that makes them uncomfortable, rather than trying to demand adults only post things that they are comfortable with.

“You are responsible for the minors in your fandom!!!”

No, I’m fucking not. I’m not your parent. My past-times do not automatically sign me up to act in loco parentis. If you need someone else to monitor your own content consumption online, go get mommy and/or daddy to set up a content blocker on your computer.

[hufflautia]

The Boyfriend

Dedicated to the anon who came up w this idea and to @eatacrackerandstop <3. There's a small Shadow and Bone reference; if you find it, you get a high five✨

Summary: Slytherin and Hufflepuff meet their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time, and Slytherin has a few concerns.

~

Hufflepuff closes the door behind her daughter, who stepped out to privately wish her boyfriend goodbye on the front stoop, and turns to Slytherin.

“He seems like a sweet kid,” she smiles. Slytherin follows her into the kitchen with a disgruntled expression. He leans against the countertop as she begins washing the dishes.

“What’s taking her so long,” he eyes the door. “It only takes a couple of seconds to say goodbye to someone.”

“They spent the entire night with us. They probably just want a little alone time,” Hufflepuff replies. She glances at him when he sighs and crosses his arms. “Do I sense a little disdain for our daughter’s boyfriend?”

Slytherin scowls.

“I don’t like him,” he states plainly. “He gives me...bad boy vibes.” His scowl deepens when she laughs incredulously.

“Bad boy vibes?”

“Yes,” he says indignantly. “Bad boy vibes! Did you see his smirk when she laughed at his joke?"

"You smirk a lot,” she points out, to which he grudgingly admits. “Besides, is it bad that he can make her laugh?"

"'Course not," he huffs. "But did you see how he put his arms around her?”

"I'm pretty sure that's called a hug, honey."

Slytherin steps between her and the sink. She shoots him a look as water drips on the floor.

“Please get out of my way, Slytherin. You’re acting like a child.”

He takes her hands into his own, not caring that they’re wet. “Honey, you’re not listening to me.”

“I am! I just don’t agree with you.” She continues before Slytherin can object. “You’re worrying over nothing. Our daughter is old enough to make her own decisions on who she hangs out with and what she does with her time."

“She’s only in her seventh year—”

“Slytherin," she says sternly. “Our baby is grown now, believe it or not. I trust her judgment. You should too.”

His brows furrow, and he doesn’t respond right away.

"It's not that I don't trust her," he finally says. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

Hufflepuff softens in this rare moment of vulnerability—his grumpiness and frustration often mask his fears.

"We can't control what happens," she says gently. "We can't control who does what or who hurts who. But what we can control is what we do and how we act." Slytherin remains silent as he considers her words. "I think the best thing we can do is support our daughter. And if things don't end well in their relationship, she will know who to come to: the people who have always been there for her."

Her words sink in, and Slytherin nods.

"You're right."

"'Course I'm right."

He smiles somberly. "I’ve only ever wanted to protect her."

"You will," she assures, pulling him into an embrace. "But you will do so at a healthy and reasonable distance. No threatening the boy."

Slytherin snorts and says, "I'm not that type of dad." He rests his chin on top of her head. "But if he breaks her heart, I keep no promises."

"Good," she murmurs into his shirt. “I'll be right behind you.”

Their moment of peace is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. They see their daughter, Giselle, standing by the doorway with a flushed grin.

"Hey kiddo," Slytherin smiles.

She makes a face. “I'm 18, Dad. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Alright." Hufflepuff notices a familiar gleam in his eye and tries not to smile as he continues. "Do you prefer muffin? Sweet pea? Or perhaps cupcake—"

Giselle covers her ears. "Dad!" she groans. "Eat a cracker and stop."

He holds his hands up in defeat as he chuckles. "Okay, okay."

"So," Hufflepuff says once things settle down. "What did Dorian think? Did he like us? What about the food? Was my cooking okay?" A look of horror washes over her face. "Oh shoot, should we have given him some leftovers to take back to his family? He probably didn't get too far, I'll go get the food from the fridge and—"

"Honey," Slytherin laughs, resting his hand on the small of her back before she can scurry off in search of tin foil and plastic containers. "It's fine."

"Yeah," Giselle assures. "The food was great, and he loved meeting you guys."

"And we loved meeting him,” Hufflepuff says warmly. “Tell Dorian he's welcome to come back at any time."

"Okay," she grins. "Can we start our movie night now?"

Slytherin nods. "I believe it's Mom's turn to choose the movie."

"I know exactly what we should watch tonight," Hufflepuff beams. They pile onto the couch, and when she puts the disc into the DVD player, everyone but Hufflepuff's face falls when they see the title.

"Aw, not this movie," Giselle complains. "We watched the trailer last week, and you said it yourself that it looked like trash."

"Wha—I didn't say trash!"

"I think you did," Slytherin interjects. He stifles a laugh when she shoots him a look.

Hufflepuff purses her lips. "Ravenclaw and I watched it at the movie theaters a few days ago, and it was a cinematic masterpiece!"

He arches an eyebrow. "So you're gonna watch it again?"

"Yes! Because it’s that good. And I want you guys to watch it with me. The movie has adventure and plot twists and romance—I mean, what hurts more than a broken heart?"

"A severed head," Giselle replies, to which Slytherin snorts a laugh.

Hufflepuff scoffs and shakes her head, but a smile tugs at her lips. “You’ll see what I’m talking about after we watch it, but I need to use the bathroom first. I’ll bring back some popcorn.”

“Can you also get some Sprite?” Giselle calls after her.

“Okay.” Hufflepuff lingers by the doorway. “Do you want anything, sweetie pie?” she says to Slytherin.

“No thanks, snuggle bunny.” He snickers when Giselle visibly cringes. He and Hufflepuff liked to call each other outrageously sweet pet names in front of their daughter for the sole purpose of grossing her out.

“Yes,” Giselle says in a deadpan voice. “This is the exact spot I want to be in right now.”

Hufflepuff laughs and winks at Slytherin before leaving. He watches her walk away before whispering to Giselle, “How likely is it that she’ll accidentally trap herself in the bathroom and we get to pick another movie?”

“Extremely likely,” she replies. “If we put a rubber item underneath the door to act as a door stopper, she won’t be able to open it from the inside…” Slytherin is looking at her weirdly, and she swallows her words. “...I mean, I don’t know.”

Slytherin smiles but doesn’t say anything. Giselle may have inherited her mother’s looks, but she has her father’s mischief.

While they wait for Hufflepuff, Slytherin speaks. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure,” she says cautiously.

“Do you love him?”

Her eyebrows rise—she didn’t expect this question. She takes a moment to think.

"Not yet.”

He nods. "But you're happy?"

"I am," she smiles.

His eyes crinkle. If she was happy…well, that was good enough for him.

“I’m glad, kiddo.”

This time, Giselle doesn’t roll her eyes at the term of endearment. Instead, she takes his hand and squeezes it three times. Slytherin, who taught her the gesture, squeezes her hand four times in response.

“Who’s ready to start the movie?” Hufflepuff walks in with popcorn and sprite, unaware of the father-daughter moment she just missed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Slytherin sighs, scooting over to make space for her. She plops down beside him and settles the bowl between them.

“Oh,” she perks up. “Before I forget. Accio tissue boxes!”

Slytherin looks bewildered as tissue boxes come flying their way. “Do we really need tissues?”

“Absolutely,” she scatters the boxes over their laps. Slytherin raises an eyebrow and glances over at Giselle, who also looks perplexed.

“My teen angst bullshit is about to have a body count,” she whispers as the movie begins playing.

A/N: This fic is somewhat connected to Different Love Languages, another one of my fics. Is the slytherpuff couple in that fic the same couple in this one? That's up to you, dear reader😌

I lowkey hate the title, but I couldn't come up w a better one. Also, this fic was longer than I planned. I originally decided to write something like this:

“Why don’t you like him?”

“Because I used to be a bad boy, which is exactly why I don’t trust him.”

Basic dialogue, plain and simple. But the darling anon who told me their idea deserves a full-length story <3

Let me know what you thought of this one-shot. Feedback makes me happy <3 If you prefer to stay anonymous, the anon option for asks is available! Be safe and well, everyone.

Tag lists are open✨ Let me know via ask/messages/comments if you want to be added or removed.

@slytherpuff-shenanigans @axieleration @sunnniiee @just--another--bean @determinedpines @zenobiagrace @asterinflower @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @mossy-axolotl @dumbbitch11 @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @notsowiseravenclaw @arianatorpotterhead @eatacrackerandstop @luciferswife16 @walkinganomaly @asunshinepuff @lewispoolerpayton @adreameratdawn @thewitcheswords @oncergleekpotterhead @princessstoopid @stardustzainy @flvrqnce @multi-fandom-nutjob @eunnieah @iamahufflepuff @1hufflepuff @introvertedrae @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @peanut-in-the-goal @pufflehuff929 @sophiexteresa @da-fox-rangerrr @dawinehouse @shipping-book-keeper @xxavaloraxx @silverhetdanes @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @elegantcroissantplaidpony @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @vickeyunicorn @arianatorpotterhead @hmilkwhoney @simpering-simpleton @grandcyclecreation @sweetinvisiblewriter @marvelenthusiast10 @mvlpksvthisht @qiaopa @beardedhumanoid @jadefox05 @justanotherperson @inkedintothepaper @minty-malfoy @trippy-morgan @fangirlgeekandfreak @boilyourteeth @absentmindeduniverse @colettedelaurel @halfelven1 @happy-puff @coloring-bud @in-love-with-remus-lupin @autumnpleaves @crakencc @flyme--tothemoon @hedgepuffgirl @littleemotionalpanda @pancakes-and-sugar @korra4321 @aquietkindofthunder @qixnsriess @porksoba @thatfann @hellounicorn @i-have-a-bad-feeling @aasa2102 @zuko-28 @annie-mcl @clementines-x @writtenfoxscreams @randomwriter23 @cryingabtwandavision @coolninjavoid @urfaveslytherin @malfoys-demigod @tumlbr-trasher @violayaxley @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @zainieees-stuff @blueberry-9-pancakes @stressy-depressy @royalelusts

[amlovelies]

34 for chargestep

thank you for the prompt anon 💜 I started writing this from Ric’s point of view but then changed my mind and rewrote the whole thing

34. The feel of fingers brushing together by accident

from the sensory prompt list

presque vu

fandom: fhr

pairing: Ricardo Ortega/nb!sidestep (Vesper Bui)

rating: T reference to death and some language Vesper is a jerk. angst

words: 2.2k

read on ao3

            The coffee shop is a familiar sight. You could squint and almost pretend it was seven years ago except the awning has been bleached by the sun. You remember the trees as thin anemic things, and now they tower over your head. Large enough to conceal you as you watch Ortega pacing near the entrance.

                He hasn’t noticed you yet; you could still walk away. Stand him up, maybe then he’ll quit asking, quit trying. You shouldn’t even be here. Why was it so hard to resist him?

                You know why

.                  It’s should be easier now. It should be easier to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. You know how this story ends. He’ll leave you behind. He’ll drag you out into the world, make you a person, make you real, and then leave you

.                 You catch a thought of a woman walking by. She’s a pretty young thing, long legs on display, hair falling in shining waves over her shoulders. She’s noticed Ortega, recognized him. Trying to working up the courage, debating with herself, should she approach him? It’s not every day you see a super hero in the flesh. It would take nothing, just the tiniest tweak, give her the confidence and make her walk over. He never could resist a pretty face. He’d forget all about meeting you for coffee. It would be the smarter thing to do.

                 You don’t do that. Instead, you make her forget, add in a little anxiety, a certainty that she is going to be late to quicken her step. Instead of doing the smart thing and walking away you let yourself be drawn to him. Inexorable.

                “There you are,” his smile is wide.

               “Did you think I stood you up?”

               A nervous chuckle, “maybe a little. It’s good to see you.” He means it. Or at least you think he does. So hard to interpret like trying to identify an object by feel alone. Familiar shapes that itch and scratch at your memory.                  A chill down your spine as you walk inside. Like stepping into your own past, but then you look closer. It’s not the same. The walls are the same color, a soft brown, and the layout remains the same, but the décor is more modern. The tables sleeker, lower backs on the chairs, more outlets for people working off laptops. So similar but not the same. You can’t go back.

                He frowns when you order a red eye, gets ready to say something, but you shoot him a glare which shuts him up. He’s the one who suggested coffee; he can’t act concerned when you order it. Probably noticed the slight tremor to your hands. So observant sometimes, and then at others so willfully obtuse. 

               Maybe he only sees what he wants to. The bags under your eyes fit the narrative he wants. The one where you are just a broken shell of the person you used to be. Just waiting for him to come along and put you back together. An insomniac with jittery hands instead of bloody ones. 

               “I thought for sure this place would have gone out of business,” you say before taking a sip of your coffee. It’s good, rich and earthy with just a hint of caramelly sweetness from the espresso. It’s a world of difference from the gas station drip and instant crap you’ve been mainlining for the last few years. “You’re really leaning into the nostalgia factor here, Ric”

                “Have to use all the weapons in my arsenal,” he says with a wink.

                “You never were any good at tactics, old man.”

                His smile is wide much more dangerous than a familiar cup of coffee. Always too contagious, that was how he drew you in. Made you believe you could have a life.

                “I don’t know from where I’m sitting it worked. I got you here, didn’t I?” Smug. Always so smug and confident, taking up too much space. Somehow feeling too close even though there’s a table between you and he’s not leaning forward. “Besides, I didn’t have to be good at them, I had you.” Now he is soft and that is worse. Trying to catch your gaze, a hand sliding out as if to grab yours.

                A twitch, an urge to reach out. To take his hand and pretend he didn’t leave you, pretend you could be a person, that you can feel. No. shut that door. Shut it down hard. “Someone had to save your reckless ass. It’s a miracle you only got me killed once.” You scoff.

                You aren’t looking at him as you say it. Maybe you should be, get to see the hit land. You want to hurt him, right? To punish him, because this is all his fault

.                 A strangled sound, and you can’t help but look up. He looks worse than he did when you visited in the hospital. “Are you ready to give up now?” you keep your voice cold. Maybe this will make him open his stupid eyes and realize you aren’t his old friend. They’re gone. Just as much as Anathema

.                 “No,” his voice is determined but you recognize that smile. You’ve seen it a dozen times. When a fight was going south, when things looked hopeless. He’d flash that smile, and somehow, you’d always made it out. Well almost. “I’ve got a thicker skin than that, Bui.”

               “Idiot,” you shake your head. It had felt so good to hurt him at the gala. Why did it feel so bad now?

               “Sure,” he agrees, “but you’re still here.”

               You are still here. It used to be so easy. You’ve felt nothing but rage for so many years. Nothing but the fire inside you, and then he walked into that stupid diner. Emotions had never been your strong suit. Even when you were trying to be a person it was still hard. Still hard to understand what you were feeling or how you were supposed to act. He was always the worst of it. At least with others you could take cues from their mind. He gave you nothing, gives you nothing. “I never said I wasn’t an idiot too,” you say with a sigh as you run a hand down your face.

                “Walk?” He’s already standing as if he knows your answer. Part of you want to be petulant to stay, to not follow his lead, but you stand up too

.                 The park across the street isn’t busy. There are a few kids on the playground, looks like it’s gotten a new corporate sponsor. For all it’s shiny new colors it still looks much like you remember it. There’s a woman on a bench reading a romance novel and sighing wistful as she thinks of her new coworker. Some teens are buying weed behind the bathrooms. Nothing dangerous and it’s easy to make the two of you pass unnoticed

.                 Walking is good. You don’t have to look at him, but you are still aware of him. Walking too close, he never had any respect for personal space

.                 His fingers brush against yours. You could call it an accident, but you can feel his eyes on you. You wait, sure he has something to say, but for once he keeps his mouth shut. Just the gentle knock of his knuckles against yours. Are there scars there from where he broke himself against your armor? It had made you smile once thinking that he’d be marked. Marked by you the same way you’ve been marked by him. Now you aren’t so sure

.                  “I don’t know how to do this,” the admission is quiet, and you hate how your voice sounds. It’s a small vulnerable thing like the pieces of yourself you left on the sidewalk seven years ago

.                 “Do what?”

                “Talk-“ a frustrated sigh- “be around you. Have friends.” You lengthen your stride, but he keeps up easily. Of course, he does. Nothing you do ever seems to really shake him, but he could always get under your skin                “Maybe you just need practice?”

               Instead of an answer you walk over to a nearby bench and take a seat. You take a sip from your coffee to avoid speaking. It’s growing cold, but you hesitate to finish it. You still need it. Need something to keep your hands busy, something to fill the awkwardness between you

.                 “Do you remember the kites-“ he begins to ask gesturing to the open field and large tree  in front of you

.                 “Yeah, I do,” You smile before adding, “I still think we should have invited Sentinel.”

               “No,” his answer is firm, just like it had been back then, but his voice is lighter than it’s been all morning. “That would have been cheating.”

               “Easy to say when you weren’t the one who had to climb the tree,” you say with a laugh. You’d been taught laughter as a technique. It was a tool, to be deployed at the right moments, to set others at ease. So different from the involuntary reaction it was around him. He was always too good at drawing it out of you. “Who knew the Marshal of Los Diablos would struggle so much with something so simple as flying a kite.”

                He bumps his shoulder against yours, “I didn’t want to rob you of part of the experience.”

                You remember he’d waxed philosophical about the importance of doing it the old-fashioned way. Of running to gather speed and watching it begin to soar behind you, that it was more fun if it took a couple tries. Empty words about childhood magic and how he hoped you could recapture it, that he could show this little piece that must have been missing from yours. He would never really understand it wasn’t just about kites, or making s’mores, or playing pirates. It wasn’t just particular experiences you were missing but the whole thing.

                You’d never had a childhood. There was nothing to recapture because you never had it in the first place. Just like you’d never had a name until he teased and cajoled you to give him one. All you had was incubation tubes and handlers and endless white walls. There was nothing magical about the chains on your wrist, the chains on your mind, the monsters that stalked the halls

.                “Bui?” you hear his voice as if from a distance. There’s a child crying somewhere and you know it’s because of you. The park has emptied. The romance novel lies forgotten on the bench, too much of a hurry to get away from you. Unable to stand even a hint of your memories. Good, they should run.

                  You’re the monster now.

                He doesn’t seem to notice the effect you have. He’s only looking at you. Eyes wide and a concerned wrinkle between his brow. This is something he could never understand. How could he? He’s untouched. Untouched with his unknowable static mind. You wish you could take it in your hands and twist it into a shape you could recognize. Something that you could interpret and begin to understand, but it always slips out. Like trying to grab mist or sunlight. You can feel it against your skin, against your shields, but you can’t affect it.

                “It’s fine.”

                You don’t need to read his mind to know he doesn’t believe you. Ortega may be a fool, but he was never stupid.

                His hand brushes against yours again. Slower this time, lingering, letting his finger drag along yours. It tingles. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it was his mods acting up, but you’ve been shocked by him before and it felt nothing like this.

                It’s an itch under your skin driving you to some sort of action. To punch him in the face or pull him in and kiss him. You don’t do either, just pull your hand away.

                “You don’t have to do that.” His voice is quiet, gentle, just like the touch of his hand had been.

                “I’m not doing anything.”

               “Yes, you are. I can see you’re pretending to be fine when you aren’t. I know you better than that.” There’s something in his eyes, something begging you to give in, to let him in.

                You want to. Some small stupid part of your brain remembering how it felt. How it felt to be real, to be more than just an instrument of vengeance. To be a person. To laugh.

                You shake your head, “not anymore.”  You know how that ends. Rising form the bench, you burn away that little voice, the one that wants to stay, to take his hand, to let him care about you. All you have is your fire. You won’t let his stupid brown eyes and fond memories douse the flames. He’d be disappointed if he did anyway. Can’t he tell there’s nothing left of you but ashes?

               “Vesper,” he calls after you begin to walk away.

                “Just give up, Ric,” you don’t turn around as you say it. You just start walking, one foot in front of the other.

                He doesn’t get up, but his words follow you as you exit the park, “I won’t.”

                 It’s just like him to get the last word in. 

[misiwrites]

Beyblade Week Day 1

joining @beybladeweek2021 late but i’ll probably be doing these belatedly all may so, whatever! it is what it is.

i’ve never participated in a fandom challenge with writing before, but i was feeling adventurous this time and the seasonal themes were just perfect for the 4kingdoms AU-verse (which is this), i haven’t been writing much anything in so long that i’m mega rusty and thought i could use the bey week to do some warm-up oneshots. these aren’t going to be particularly interesting because i’m really bad at doing oneshots actually, but i like the idea myself and. that’s the only thing that really matters. right. (i’m not even sure if AUs are allowed for the beyblade week?? but the rules didn’t say anything about it so /shrug)

the day 1 oneshot is a little story from takao’s childhood about how he first met kyouju. this was inspired by my own childhood memories as the youngest sibling when i just wanted to hang out around my big sisters because i thought everything they were doing was Cool Big Sister Stuff.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Firsts / Childhood / Spring

”Takao! I’m trying to read this! Leave me alone already, will you?”

A groan of disappointment. Reluctantly, Takao backs away from his older brother by the desk, shooting him a frown of judgment and betrayal. Now, a quick change of tactics: he figures that, just maybe, Hitoshi allows him to stay in the room if he zips his lips to his best ability.

Wrong. Two silent minutes pass in the small study room until Hitoshi bellows at his brother again, swinging an arm in the door’s direction.

“I’m serious, you can’t keep doing this when I’m trying to do my homework!”

“I’ll just watch and keep quiet, I promise,” Takao insists, giving his brother his best puppy eyes.

“I can’t focus if you’re standing there! Now get out!”

Takao’s frown deepens; with heavy feet and a heavy heart, he trudges toward the sliding door. He doesn’t like this recent change in his brother, all this emphasis on what Hitoshi refers to as “important stuff”. Just because he’s now seventeen. Acting all high and mighty, pretending to be so adult and so important, too adult and too important to play with his younger sibling.

“It’s a very important time for your brother,” their grandfather responded to Takao’s fraternal laments once. “In one year, he will officially inherit the crown of the Seiryuu-ou. There’s much for him to do to grow into the role of the king before his coronation.”

Important this, important that. What about having fun, wasn’t fun important at all? And fencing – surely instructing Takao with the basics of fencing has to be important? Hitoshi’s fencing skills are second to only their grandfather’s, and Takao cannot imagine – doesn’t want to imagine – anyone else teaching him the art of the bamboo sword. And now Hitoshi is “too busy” to teach him, all of a sudden.

“But I’m boooored,” Takao whines from the doors, balancing his weight on his heels back and forth.

“How about you go study something too for once? You really should be reading a lot more than you do, you know. I don’t want my little brother to end up being a dumb prince who doesn’t know anything about the way the world works.”

Takao’s nose wrinkles in disapproval. The word “study” smells like old paper and dust and boredom.

“It’s the Sowmoon holiday now! And what the hell would I study?” he barks.

“Don’t cuss. Anything – whatever interests you. How about the history of the city?”

“Bahhhh.”

“The history of fencing, then. I don’t know – go to the library, take a look at the books or whatever, just leave me alone. I don’t have time for this.” Hitoshi lifts the yellowish document in front of his face and disappears behind it. A wall has risen between the two brothers.

* * * * * *

In the country of spring and year-round greenery, it’s difficult to stay sullen under the tranquil blue of the Eastern sky. Moments later Takao is skipping down the road that leads to the town of Tsuno below, his child’s heart already ignited with new-found hope and aspiration, his feelings of frustration shed by the sturdy wooden gates of the Cherrywood Castle and he's moving on, literally.

At first, the idea was dull at best; reading sounds like just about the flattest thing he could be doing on this beautiful Sowmoon day, a warm breeze blowing through his indigo hair as he carefully hops from one cobblestone to the other… but, in the end, it’s the wish to please his brother that has won him over. Now a plan is taking shape in his mind, the idea swelling like a balloon by each step he takes down the road, and soon his head is racing with the ambition of studying as many topics as he can think of; he’s dreaming up scenarios of impressing his brother with all his newly acquired knowledge, his brain buzzing and his proud heart thumping with all the imaginary praise from Hitoshi… and, just maybe, he’ll then agree to do something fun with his cool and smart little brother again.

So caught up in his daydreams, Takao hardly pays attention to all the familiar townspeople greeting him as he passes by their wooden dwellings and shops and stalls, and he prances past several flocks of tourists lingering on the streets of Tsuno, too busy taking pictures of the cherry blossom trees in their rare blue Sowmoon bloom to notice the royal prince walking right past them. Even if they did see him, not many would pay attention to him; people from outside the city would never imagine a member of the royal Seiryuu-ou family strolling around in a simple hakama without making a scene; but in the royal capital of the Country of East, this was a mundane everyday sight, and Takao was a regular guest of the pastry stalls on the main street of Tsuno. The townspeople loved to pamper this bold and friendly little prince, who hadn’t yet been spoiled by the privileges of the royalty.

Takao reaches the tall glass doors of the main library, only to face the reality of the numbers painted on the glass panel. Five minutes to closing time. So caught up in the rollercoaster of his imagination as he left the Cherrywood Castle, checking the opening hours of the library didn’t even pass his mind.

“Oh, hello, Your Highness,” he’s greeted by one of the kimono-clad library workers who spots him. (The surprise is evident; Takao is not a usual guest in the library.) “How wonderful to see you here. Are you looking for something?”

“Well, yeah, for something to read… but it looks like you’re about to close.”

But coincidence is on Takao’s side today, for the clerk tells him that the library is staying open for one extra hour every day this week.

“The reading hall has been reserved by Professor, a local researcher – but I’m positive he won’t be disturbed by Your Highness’s presence.”

“Really? Okay.” Relieved and triumphant, Takao enters the old-fashioned yet admittedly curiosity-inducing depths of the city library.

He quickly comes to the conclusion that he has underestimated the number of books in the world. Expecting there to be one of each subject of his admittedly limited academic imagination, he is instead hit by an entire universe of paper and ink and covers and words. The map of the library layout alone is full of complex characters that Takao hasn’t yet come across in his schooling.

Dammit.

In the end, Takao finds himself pacing back and forth a narrow aisle of local history books, looking for one with a cover that sparks interest. Perhaps he cannot read all the text, but at least he can look at the pictures.

That’s when he notices another person sharing the space with him, at the far end of the hall, where the shelves have been moved to hug the walls to make room for a reading area in the middle and the ceiling seems to climb up impossibly high under the arch of a dome roof. This person is another kid, hardly older than Takao, and he’s not paying the prince any attention in return; the boy is glued to the screen of a laptop computer that sits on a table in front of him along with several books, one of which has been spread open. Every now and then, his fingers dance across the keyboard at a speed that Takao didn’t even know a computer keyboard could be used with; then the boy crouches over to take a quick glance at the open book before turning back to the laptop again.

A curious sight. For a moment, Takao is tempted by the allure of calling out to this strange boy, to ask him why he’s still there after closing hours. He decides against it and swallows his curiosity. If there’s one thing that his older brother has recently taught him, it is to mind his own business and not bother other people hard at work.

* * * * * *

The next day Takao returns to the library, a pile of books in his lap that he leafed through all night last night. Hundreds of pages of buildings so old they probably stayed up in the pictures with willpower alone – so old that Takao half-expected them to crumble and disappear by the turn of a page, leaving empty picture frame squares behind.

He came to the conclusion that Tsuno’s history was perhaps not the subject to start from.

Takao returns the books, decides to try and find something about fencing, a subject he’s already in some way familiar with. (Between the important-looking books, he secretly slips in a story about Southern pirates; this one he’s not going to tell Hitoshi about.)

In the hall with the dome ceiling, the kid with the laptop is by the exact same table again. Only the array of books next to him is a little different… maybe. Takao is nearly seized by his curiosity again, but something about the air around this boy holds the lingering scent of “do not disturb”, so he bites his tongue once more.

* * * * * *

How could even books about fencing slap him in the face with all this wall of text?! The following day Takao once again turns up at the library, to return his previous findings that had only briefly managed to capture his interest with images of old fencing gear that were not only ancient but, as he ultimately decided, very ugly and stupid-looking.

What about archery, the other national sport of the East? Takao finds it boring and repetitive compared to fencing, but since books about fencing turned out to be boring, did it mean that books about the boring sport were, in turn, more interesting? It makes perfect sense, in Takao’s eight-year-old mind.

However, as he makes his way to the library at the cusp of closing hours again, he no longer pays much heed to the books. Instead, his feet take him to the reading hall under the dome right away.

Sure enough, the kid with the big round glasses and a laptop in front of him is there in his usual spot, all alone. And again the boy’s fingers are hammering at the keyboard faster than Takao can form a coherent thought about computers, the strange machinery that originates from the technically advanced Country of West for all he knows.

It’s been three days now, and Takao can no longer hold back his burning curiosity. Eyes on the strange boy, he takes small sideway steps between the bookshelves, inching his way closer and closer, until he reaches the open reading area under the arched skylights above.

“Hey,” Takao says as he enters the boy’s proximity by the table.

The boy doesn’t do as much as raise his eyes from the computer screen.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asks, still typing away. The tone of his high-pitched voice is just slightly aggravated but his choice of words oozes formality, a strange speech pattern for someone his age. It throws Takao off a little.

“Umm, I’ve seen you here every day this week and was wondering what you’re doing, that’s all. You know the library was already closed, right?”

After saying this, the thought then passes Takao’s mind that perhaps this kid never leaves the library. Perhaps he’s not even aware that he’s in a closed library. What if Takao is talking to a ghost, haunting this remote corner of the library all day and night? Or, maybe, he’s nothing but a product of Takao’s imagination?

The boy’s voice is now so blunt in response that these phantasmagoric thoughts immediately vanish from Takao’s mind.

“Yes, of course I know. The library personnel was very kind to allow me this one working hour without other people disturbing me. So really, I should be asking – what are you doing here?” Now the stranger’s hands finally leave the keyboard and he lifts his eyes to Takao.

A moment of confused silence. Then the boy’s face begins to resemble the colour of a strawberry.

“Oh!” he squeaks and jumps up to his feet, only to bow his head toward the floor. “Oh, Your, uh, Your Highness! I am terribly sorry for being so rude! Oh, goodness me, how could I…!”

“Wow, calm down,” Takao interrupts, startled himself by the suddenness of the boy’s reaction. “And raise your head – I don’t like people bowing at me, it makes me feel weird. More importantly, what you said just now – are you saying you booked this extra hour from the library?”

Hesitantly, the boy straightens his back, which doesn’t increase his height significantly; now that they’re standing next to each other, Takao notices how small the person he’s talking to is, his head barely on level with Takao’s shoulders.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he says. “I wasn’t aware I was sharing it with the royal family, though. How thoughtless of me.”

“No, well, I kinda just walked in on my own, to be fair. So… you’re a researcher?”

“You could say so, I am indeed carrying out some research here. My name is Saien Manabu, but everyone calls me Professor.”

“Oh, wow. What exactly are you researching?”

“Right now I am writing a paper on the goddess cult of the Country of North. I know, it’s not exactly a topic that interests most children, but I find it so terribly fascinating…”

The mention of children – a nod to the fact that this boy, too, is a child just like him – makes Takao immediately feel more at ease. This person, albeit strange and overly formal and clearly too smart for his age, really is just a child after all. This notion alone is enough to make the kind-hearted and fairly simple-minded Takao like this boy more.

“Sure, that sounds cool,” he says with a grin. “Hey – you said you’re Saien, right? Like that ramen shop on the main street?”

“Yes, it is owned by my parents.”

“Well, it’d be real interesting to hear more about your research and all, but I’m kinda hungry, to be honest – the Saien noodles sound awesome just about now. How about we go there and then you tell me more?”

“Hmm. Well, I wasn’t making as much progress today as I wanted, in any case.” The boy, visibly at least a little relieved to get a break from staring at the screen, slams his laptop shut and tucks it under his arm. Then he flashes a friendly smile at Takao. “Very well, Your Highness. But my mother may pass out if I bring a member of the royal family to their shop all of a sudden, so please prepare for that.”

“Bah, just call me Takao, I’m not so into that formal stuff.”

“Alright, and you can call me Professor.”

* * * * * *

Once back in the Cherrywood Castle, Takao told both his brother and grandfather how much he’d learned about the Northern goddess Hiromi of time and space already; and from that day onward, Hitoshi never needed to refer to his younger brother as the dumb prince again, as Takao, who became a frequent visitor of the Saien family ramen shop both inside and outside business hours, never ran out of curious stories to share about all the things he learned from his new friend.

And while the royal Seiryuu-ou family wasn’t to stay together for much longer from the moment of this story, Takao and Professor remained best friends for many years to come.

[britcision]

So I wanna talk a little more about this concept of digital natives and also tie a little into learned behaviour, because this is fun to me

First: this idea of kids these days being “digital natives” and having some kind of innate understanding of technology has actually seriously fucked the younger generations over

They are not being taught computer skills

Your bell curve around 40 of computer competence are because the kids who were taught how to use a computer in school are generally 30-50 now (for the very lucky ones who learned early)

We used to have classes on this; on how to type, how to set up files and folders, how to actually make a computer do the basic tasks you need to know to use it well, not just how to code

There’s jokes about kids not knowing why the floppy disk icon means save, or why the call button on phones looks like that, but it’s not because the kids have done anything wrong or are uniquely ignorant

They have no frame of reference, and are not being given one

Sure, some kids will poke around and learn anyway, but young adults are entering workplaces not knowing how to sort and nest folders to organize files, or how to find anything stored that way

They’re struggling with the exact same tasks “old folks” used to struggle with, because growing up on a tablet or a smart phone or even a gaming laptop does not prepare you for a workstation

They do fundamentally different things, but because people assume they’re “digital natives”, they are expected to know all the inner workings by magic, just because the technology is older than they are

(I have touched and held a floppy disk - the smaller, solid, not floppy ones. And I think the last time I put one in a computer for serious reasons I was 5)

This is actually relevant to AO3 in particular because while AO3 has fantastic optimization for mobile (means: looks good on small screen all buttons work), it is not designed like a mobile app

AO3 is very plainly still set out as a website, meant to be accessed through a monitor with mouse and keyboard

When you open AO3 on mobile or on laptop or desktop, it looks almost exactly the same, including the layout. This is an intentional choice (and in my opinion, always the right one; you don’t want users to get confused by how different your site looks based on the device you’re using)

This feels very intuitive to some older users because it is what we grew up with, and yeah, like otnf says, it’s how a lot of fandom and especially fic spaces have been set up since this was the hot new tech; we’re used to this kind of layout, and having to click a couple times to get our filters set the way we like

For anyone who is experiencing AO3 as their very first fanfic platform, their expectations are gonna be shaped by the other media they’ve seen up til now

The search bar is… just a search bar. A text box in the top menu

And sure, once you hit “search” you get buttons for filters another refinement, but the thing they teach you first in web design is that if you want users to see a feature, it must be glaringly obvious and maybe a weird colour because your brain filters out one fuck of a lot of background noise in everything you look at

That’s not what you want to see when you’ve just run a search; presumably, you want to focus on the results, and if you’re already planning to filter, congrats! The button’s right there at the top

If you have no reason to know or expect the button to be there, the search box is all there is, and it is super easy to just scroll on past to your results and filter slowly and laboriously

There is no web design that can fix this

AO3 is right not to prioritize it; there is not a magic right answer. A text field above the “Edit Your Search” button might help? So might a pop up for a logged in user, that they can close and never see again once they know the secret

But the primary goal of the search page is to show you the results of the search you just did

And this is where learned behaviour comes into play!

Cuz you see, we can’t change the AO3 interface; we can just get better at using it, and finding our own ways to get what we want

The websites we use a lot train us to look at other websites in a similar way, exactly like a mouse learning the best path through a maze

If you are used to using another button to filter search results, you are more likely to look for one

If you’re used to features being big and flashy and attention grabbing, you are less likely to look at anything that isn’t

AO3 inherited a lot of its structure from fic platforms that came before, because the people who built it were used to using that structure, which felt natural and intuitive to them

Once you have learned to use a system well, there’s a pretty quick tail off where you forget you had to learn anything at all; it’s super easy, just click these three buttons and bam! Here’s a spreadsheet!

(This is in fact a major part of my job in business analysis; breaking down old systems and simplifying them so that they are actually easier to train new staff on. Old staff are generally reluctant to bother and want to use their older “intuitive” systems until they get a look at how simple the new system can be, and realize how much actual training time they could just avoid

Then it’s pretty popular, so long as it still feels “intuitive” to people used to the old system - things like keywords and similar placement of buttons, but if you can cut out four steps in the process? Hell yeah)

So, once you get used to how AO3 works, you forget you had to learn. And it seems so very silly to see all these new people in the notes, afraid of clicking buttons

(Absolutely click every button you don’t immediately understand on a trusted site, it’s break testing the code and if you can do anything seriously damaging it’s better you a benevolent user find out than someone Planning Evil)

But if they are used to very different site structure, or even used to using apps instead of browsers, or even just haven’t used a similar site before (and be honest; how many others are there in your daily lives?) they have no reason to even assume there could be a button there to look for

“Edit Your Search”? Well I can do that by typing a different thing in the text box, why would I need a button?

(Note: there is no magic phrasing that will prevent this)

In the burgeoning days of the internet, we had no fan sites and a lot of people at least started making their own; we have insider knowledge on how sites are built, structured, and the language for what everything on a site does comes from these times

It used to be much more bare bones, so we know where to generally look for filters and things like that

And then we forget we needed to be told, and it all just seems so obvious

Tl;dr: AO3 features like search filters seem obvious to you because you know they’re there. Give everyone else a year with them and they too will also consider them obvious

There’s always gonna be an onboarding period, and reworking AO3 to cater to that would only make it frustrating for long term users… including the ones who would initially benefit from the redesign

How many times do you want to scroll past or dismiss a “Filter Your Search Here! You can use And, Or, and other operators!……..” bubble?

But it does.

[alienheartattack]

Hii! I am also a rivamika shipper and omG I love all of your fanfictions! They are so well written and I smile whenever i read one of them. From ur fics, Im guessing rivamika is ur OTP? But- I have been so inspired by ur fics that I want to write my own Rivamika fanfictions, but my writing is nowhere near as good as urs. Do you have any tips on how I can improve?

Thank you so much for your message! It makes me so happy to know that other people enjoy my fics. There's really nothing better when you're reading a story and the feels hit and you've just got this big grin on your face, so that's the feeling I try to go for when I write.

I would say strictly based on the sheer volume of fic I've written, Rivamika is definitely my OTP. I've had other OTPs in the past but I'd never published much fanfiction for them because I tended to join fandoms well past their peak, but there's a definite theme in all of my shipping adventures: a talented but difficult man and the equally talented woman who sees through his bullshit. (I was really into House/Cuddy from House MD back before the show made them canon and then sunk the ship into the Mariana fucking Trench in like 8 episodes. Everyone, please count your blessings that Rivamika isn't canon.)

As for improving your writing... I'm going to try not to write a novel about this because I have Many Feelings About Writing. First off I would caution you not to compare yourself to other writers, but rather look at them as sources of inspiration and emulation. (Mainly I just feel weird when younger fic writers compare themselves to me, since I have an extensive background in writing and editing, I've read a ton, I studied writing in college, and during my last fandom hiatus I got into live comedy and wrote multiple sketch and variety shows as well as a whole-ass play. One of the reasons why I'm as good as I am is because I've been doing this for so long.)

The very unsexy but true answer is that good writing is born from discipline and developing your own practice. Every creative writing teacher I've had has said something along the lines of, "I cannot teach you how to write. I can give you tools and the opportunity to workshop your writing, but you have to figure out the writing process that works best for you." Some people are more productive in the morning or at night; you might write longhand, on your phone, or on a computer; you might start writing with only inspiration to guide you or you might outline extensively before you start. You have to figure out which of these methods work best for you and figure out how to schedule time to write. (Personally, I write mostly at night, I outline extensively, and I take notes on my phone whenever inspiration strikes me because I know I'm going to lose the idea unless I write it down immediately. It's taken years of trial and error to get to this point. My process is still pretty haphazard but it's what works for me.)

To write well, you have to write a whole lot of shit first. It's just a fact; my first drafts are absolute trash and I hate them a lot of the time, but I try not to get discouraged because it's just a skeleton of the final product. You're probably not going to like what you write at first, but all that means is that your skill level doesn't match your taste level yet. If you let that piece of writing sit for a while and come back to it after you've done more reading and more writing days or weeks later, you'll be able to better identify what you don't like and be able to fix it. Ideally you want to do some kind of writing every day or close to it, whether that's writing down an idea in your notes app, scribbling in a notebook on your lunch break, dedicating yourself to a practice of morning pages, or something similar. Even spacing out and thinking about your story can be productive, but only if you write down what you come up with.

Aside from discipline, being a well-rounded writer boils down to developing several core skills:

Reading: You want to read everything you can get your hands on — and I mean everything. The goal is to train yourself to identify writing that you like and to be able to explain why you like it, then employ those devices and concepts in your own writing. Even if you're only planning on writing fiction, there's still amazing writing to be found in nonfiction. (Food writing and travel writing in particular tend to be very evocative in their descriptions.) I also take inspiration from poetry for its impactful use of language. The more you read, the more ideas and stories and references you'll be aware of, and you'll be able to pull inspiration from a wider breadth of resources. If you're still in school, learning critical reading in your literature classes applies here: being able to identify themes, character traits, tropes, rhetorical and literary devices, etc. will help you develop your own preferences and taste.

Researching: I use a dictionary and thesaurus whenever I write. I have a whole folder on my computer of writing resources I've compiled over the years. I google things all the time, even really dumb stuff or basic facts just so I'm certain that I got it right. I think the old adage of "write what you know" doesn't mean that you can only write based on your life experience; rather, you can teach yourself about all kinds of subjects and write about them with a degree of certainty without having directly experienced them yourself. For example, when I write fanfiction with a Rivamika baby, I figure out what I need the kid to do (walk, say cute things, etc.) and then research infant development to see how old the child needs to be in order for these things to be realistic. I once got some feedback on Inexorable that Hana was written like a real child, which made me feel amazing because at the time I was literally never around babies. However, I was able to draw on my limited past experiences with other people's kids and my own research to portray a young toddler somewhat accurately.

Editing: It is a massively helpful skill to be able to read your own writing and approach it with a distant, critical eye. I worked on my high school and college newspapers and learned how to edit other people's writing that way. (Beta reading is a good way to practice this skill.) Being edited at the paper also taught me to stop being possessive over my own writing, even when I thought it was brilliant. Writing is about conveying ideas to another person, usually a total stranger, which means clarity is ultimately more important than adding artistic flourishes. I've also recently started using the Grammarly plugin for basic grammar stuff that I tend to forget. This also ties in with reading; the more you read, the more you'll be able to identify and replicate more effective writing, and the easier time you'll have identifying deficiencies in your own writing.

I've written enough already (I wasn't kidding about the novel) so I'll close with one last tip that is universally helpful: read your writing out loud. Most of the time, you can figure out what you want to say simply by verbalizing it or you'll realize, "Oh, no one talks like this, I would have said X in this situation" and that'll help you write more clearly and realistically.

I love talking about writing (obviously), so feel free to inbox me if you have more questions!

[theheavenlymoon]

I totally did this out of order, so let’s try this again!

I would like you to meet Uzuki Hanako! (うづき- Uzuki はなこ- Hanako)

(My first introduction was a hot mess, so I wanted re edit that one and put up this one instead!)

(I can’t draw for crap so I’m using picrew.)

This will basically be me talking about her rather than all the fandoms she’s in. I’m gonna be making post about her and the fandoms later, but for now it’s all about her!

First Name: Hanako

Last Name: Uzuki

Gender: Female

Race: Demigod

Age: ??? (Depending on the fandom, her age changes)

Birthday: December 27

Zodiac: Capricorn

Height: 6’3.3

Sexuality: Bisexual

JP CV: Ami Koshimizu

ENG CV: Amanda Céline Miller

FRENCH CV: Indila

(Couldn’t find a Greek CV 😔)

Nicknames: Shachi-chan (Floyd), Child of Hearth (Malleus), Ms.Herbivore (Leona), Princess, Wifey (Gojo)

Favorite food: Cheesecake, literally anything sweet

Least favorite food: Hummus, mushrooms, candy, and beans

Likes: family/friends, cooking, singing really loud to her music, working out, making clothes, nail polish, memes/vines, rain/cloudy weather, animals, purple, doing anything around the house, video games, anime, fictional books, roughhousing, and day dreaming about her crush/significant other

Dislikes: Fights between friends and family, Candy, crying in front of people, and bookshelves

Since I can’t draw I have to use picrew, but sadly some of the makers that I find have limited options so allow me to go into detail about her looks. (I’ll probably make another post about her abilities later)

Hanako has bright gold eyes and long lavender hair that goes all the way down to her mid thigh. She has two beauty marks, one under her right eye and one on the left side of her lip. Her signature hair style is space buns with the rest of her hair down in the back. Like I’ve said before, I can’t draw so I’m using characters I know as reference! This is what her body looks like.

(^ This is Flare, a character from fairy tail! I recommend watching it if you have time. Fairy tail is a very long series, but it’s really good!)

(I’m pretty sure you can look at almost all the women in Fairy tail and get the idea.)

Obviously I know that Hestia doesn’t have any demigod kids but demigods don’t have to be born the normal way. Hanako was born from fire and was given to her father. With that being said, when Hana was first claimed she was given a fire place poker but traded it in for a sword so she it could help control her pyrokinesis. (Her sword is disguised as a charm bracelet!)

As for her sword...

Hana’s sword helps her control her pyrokinesis a little better and it’s fun to try and see who can pick it up. Her sword can reach up to about 2000°F (1093°C). She has a few special moves but those are for another time.

Although Hana acts like her mom in some moments, she met Apollo and Hermes when she was quite young and those two have had a big impression on her personality. One moment she giving motherly advice, and the next moment she screaming vines across the room.

Random facts about Hanako 🌸✨

Since Hana means flower I use cherry blossoms and lavender to represent her.

Has a huge soft spot for children!

Hanako is super understanding and open. Wanna try something new? She’ll come with you, so you aren’t lonely and scared. Skydiving? What time are we leaving? Want to be left alone? Call her if you need something! Wanna try working out? She’ll be your personal trainer! Feeling down? She’s coming over with movies and snacks! Can’t make it to game night? It’s alright just be safe with whatever your doing!

Once Hanako falls, she falls hard.(Romantically speaking) She is a SIMP. She’ll wear the most giddiest smile after talking with them. Probably screamed in her pillows at least a few times. “They make my heart beat so fast, and they make me feel like the happiest girl in the world!!” - Hanako.

Attempts her best not to be obvious about her crush, and for the most part it works. Until anything other than platonic stuff comes up. Her face is gonna turn crimson if ANYONE mentions her crush in not so platonic ways, gods forbid anything even more intimate. Children of Hestia are so shy when the idea of sexual things is even bought up that they blush deeply and cannot articulate any coherent words, and any fire nearby also turns crimson as if it were blushing like the child of Hestia. This shyness is amplified if they are around their crush.

Gets kind of anxious when she’s beside a bookshelf.

She’s a smart ass. It’s gotten to the point where she does it automatically. It doesn’t even have time to process, it just comes out.

Hana is actually really good at acting and singing. She was in a few commercials and videos when she was younger but only as background characters.

Hana is amazing with kids. She grew up with 3 little brothers before she was moved into the orphanage, which meant even more kids to watch over. (she takes her big sister role very seriously)

Since she was born from fire, she can raise her body temperature up if she wanted too, and she rarely gets hot or cold. Heat based attack have no effect on her. Hana’s hugs feel like a warm blanket wrapped around you while sitting next to a fireplace, all in all just really comforting

Hana grew up around a lot of guys and so she calls everyone ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ a lot. She has a few friends who are girls but most of them are guys. That being said, she grew up rough housing and yelling.

Hana also comes from a very affectionate family. (Hugs, kisses, feeding food to each other, smashing food into someone’s face, etc.) So it’s not uncommon to see Hana tackle all of her friends into hugs and kisses.(platonically)

Hana also likes to tease a lot (curtsy of Hermes) so don’t be surprised when she tease about you burning food.

Is super flexible. I’m talking like, Mitsuri flexible. Her friends have at least saw her in the scorpion pose a few times. The more flexible she is, the easier it is to move in battle.

The woman is a tree. I’m pretty sure all of her lovers (with the exception of Gojo) are shorter than her.

She can not, for the life of her, wear heels. Anything above a 3 inch that isn’t thick, would make her snap an ankle. Besides she’s already tall enough

In terms of anger, Hana has the patience of a saint. She still gets annoyed here and there, but very rarely does she get genuinely angry. On the rare occasion that she is angry, she gets pretty violent. Veins showing from her forehead, her body temperature spikes, and she wears one of the most nastiest glare ever. (from what she’s been told) Only a select few have seen her mad.

When thrown into a new situation (or a new world-) that isn’t familiar, Hana will come off a bit sarcastic (more than usual) and aloof. She wants to get a feel for her surroundings before she can actually be herself. Give her some time to come around and she’ll be back to hyper and happy.

Hana has a bunch of hobbies. She plays volleyball and is known as the queen of the court. She loves to paint her fingernails and her toes as well. Her cooking is top tier! As a Hestia child obviously she would excel at anything that has to do with domestic and home type things.

She 100% would/will make her own dress. Once made a huge ball gown dress because none of the place had what she was looking for.

When she isn’t doing any of her hobbies she’s working out and practicing her pyrokinesis. Hana trained a lot back where she was from, so she could master her pyrokinesis and her sword. She’s gotten to the point where she can lift a car. Just because she’s in a different place doesn’t give her the excuse to slack off!!

Ironically her mother is a virginal goddess and isn’t married to anyone. Hana on the other hand, wants to get married and have kids. She shooting for 4 but it all depends on what her partner wants. (2,6,8 it just depends)

Hestia children can induce serenity and make tense situations a lot more calmer. Hanako has defeated a lot of enemies and monsters this way.

Hanako knows 4 different languages. English, Japanese, Greek, and French. She was taught Japanese by her father and Greek by her mother. She learned French and English herself

Even though Hana loves to do girly things, makeup is not one of them. She always thought it was pretty cool but she never had the time to sit down and practice it.

Thank you for reading✨ I had a lot of fun making this and I can’t wait to write more stuff about her! I’ll probably have to learn how to make a master post so her stuff is easier to access. If you have any questions about Hana my inbox is open, or you can message me in private, either way works!

I hope you stick around for more content with Hanako! 🌸🔥✨

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

The Character As A Tool: Why Your Fave Doesn't Get More Screentime

Please refer to this post

REMINDER THAT ALL VIEWS HERE ARE MERELY MY OWN OPINIONS 

In truth, one of the most common complaints I see within this fandom is the treatment of side characters. Meaning, in short, a fair amount of the fandom are less connected to what’s going on with our main group of Nagisa, Karma, and Kayano, and instead relate to some of the less obvious choices. Now, there’s no problem with doing this. Hey, if you see something you like in a less important character, then absolutely go for it!

What We Do Know

I discovered for myself, whilst making my About Ass Class series posts, that absolutely some characters’ actual canon information is very dry. Matsui gives everyone a few bits here and there in both the Roll Call book and Graduation Album. If you’re lucky, there’s further points you can pick up just from watching/reading.

Now, and this I want to emphasise I’m stating as an opinion, Matsui actually gives us quite a lot to go from. Even if not every character is highly developed, there’s still a genuinely very solid starting block to go from with your own headcanon. Perhaps it can be argued that it’s not the reader’s job to supply that, but I’d counter that it’s actually kind of fun to not be fed every piece of information. Though more facts and a deeper dive into interpersonal relationships would be admittedly nice, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us as a fandom coming up with those ideas on our own, using the pointers Matsui does give us as a starting point. Honestly it would take the fun out a little if there was too much information, and we’d have less possibilities to play with.

Why Certain Characters Exist

I’m sorry to tell you, but one of the first things you’re taught in any kind of writing or literature analysis class is that characters are not people, they’re tools. This may feel a little harsh to say, and I’m aware that many people get attached to characters and have genuine feelings towards them. And that is totally valid! Definitely not on the same scale, but I too enjoy when people have real emotions towards my OCs, so I get it.

(rest under cut) 

To put it plainly: characters exist within a story as either a plot tool, or a message tool. A plot tool is someone who, as it sounds, exists to move the story along. Characters that need to exist in order for the story to happen as it does. Now, don’t get me wrong, you don’t need to have planned this out. You don’t need to specifically introduce Hara, for example, for the sole reason of her upping the stakes in the first Itona/Shiro arc. Characters existing for filler is still, in a way, a plot tool. It’s like… you set up a chess board. Sure, you might use the knight or the queen piece the most, but the pawns are still an important and useful piece, even if you don’t always utilize it for every move, or they don’t always stand out. Message tools are when a character doesn’t really do anything, but they help to assist in the message you want to send with your art/writing. There’s not so many examples of this in ass class, the best I can think of is either Yuuji or Sakura, who don’t do much at all but are beacons for what Matsui wants to say with them (which if you think about it is just ‘don’t do drugs kids’ and ‘stay in school’ :’)).

So free bit of writing advice for you: your character is your chisel. Once you’ve picked them up and started to work at carving out the story you want, then you can start adding all your fancy upgrades and personality points, which is what ultimately makes your character stronger. You grow attached to them when you’re done? Totally fair. Just… don’t go through this process the opposite way.

Without going too in depth with them right now, Nagisa Shiota is a plot tool. He is a plain easy to follow narrator whose observation skills intentionally mean the reader can see things clearly through his eyes. Where he loses relatability is when he displays his talent, but at that point he’s been so clearly introduced that it doesn’t matter as much, we can hear his voice. Him being more plain makes his talent more effective and shocking as it is. Karma Akabane is a plot tool. He exists so we have those somewhat comedic moments, and so we can have these big bad ass mental/physical fight moments. I actually think him not being the protagonist is something that makes Ass Class hugely stronger (and less cliché) as a series. Kayano Kaede is a plot tool. Admittedly, less so, but she has a lot of function as a back up to Nagisa, and then later is the catalyst for Korosensei’s backstory. The story starts to come to its climax due to her arc alone. As an aside I think a lot of criticism for Matsui isn’t that fair within the fandom, but I will openly say his treatment of her post reveal was not the best at all. He kind of lost control of what to do with her.

So, let’s talk about archetypes. I intend to write a whole meta about why Ass Class is predominantly written as a comedy series, but for now just take that statement as my opinion. Honestly, I do think Ass Class, with a few tweaks, could have worked with a bunch of unnamed characters. I’m instantly going to follow that up with: I’m very glad it didn’t. I love that it feels more like a large ensemble with a variety of characters. So instead of just plain filler, Matsui kind of makes good use of archetypes. You know, such as Takebayashi and Fuwa as otakus, Hazama as the dark occult girl etc. etc. All of this for comedic purpose, more than anything, which we really see in something like Koro Q which is more directly comedy. You might argue this is one dimensional, and I’d agree, but in this situation it’s achieving an effect. It’s genuinely better than having nothing. And honestly, they all do stuff. Some characters are far more effective and entertaining as a background character (i.e. Terasaka) than carrying a bunch of weight themselves.

Matsui Actually Does This Comparatively Well

Honestly, try and name another popular series in a classroom setting, with this many characters who all have individual personalities. Genuinely, the only one I can kind of think of is BNHA, and that’s not a fair comparison given the difference in story length. Comparatively to most series, Ass Class actually has really good side characters. If they were completely uncaringly written, nobody would stan them as hard. For the most part, I’d certainly argue everyone is memorable. Given that we’re juggling at least 30 people here (including teachers, Gakushuu etc.), I’d actually argue that’s kind of impressive.

And the thing is, Matsui does care. He cares enough to give everyone designs, hobbies, and personalities. A good portion of them have an entire chapter to themselves, although relative to the story as a whole they might not do so much (example: Kimura). Matsui could have been lazy with it, but he was not. I don’t want to invalidate anyone’s feelings with this, but I do argue here that those who think the opposite might be a little wrapped up in the character they stan. And I can totally understand that rightfully, you want the character you love to have more screen time. However, just because you happened to fall in love with them (figuratively I mean), doesn’t change the purpose they were originally created to fulfil.

It’s an unfair criticism that not giving every single person a huge arc makes Matsui a poor writer. Honestly, if everyone was equal without a few main characters getting a greater amount of the attention, the entire series would be a hot mess. It might be fun to reimagine the series that way, and go ahead in your own time, but as a series from start to finish, as a first time consumer, it would be genuinely very hard to follow. Not without changing the entire structure and many many plot points.

I do intend to write more about this too at a later point (because I will admittedly need to do more research), but in my opinion the biggest issue with Ass Class, and the cause behind the problems I have with it, is the genuine lack of time. It’s a relatively short story, compared to a lot of manga, and thus there isn’t the space to contain everyone’s story in deep way. I’m absolutely certain, had there been 50/100 chapters more, every character would have had a stand out chapter to themselves.

So thus I bring up the fun and stimulation that is headcanon.

The Issue with headcanons

(this point will go much quicker, I promise)

Ass class ended a looong time ago, let’s be fair. Whether you’re newer or older to the fandom, there’s still been quite a while since any kind of new content (Korotan D being the last official piece, Koro Q manga being the last anything, though I could be slightly wrong with that). That means, especially if you’ve cared about this series for a while, that we’ve considered the series to death.

Playing with headcanons is great! It’s fun! But, I do fear that especially when it comes to perhaps the more popular of the minor characters, a lot of us are getting wrapped up. It needs to be kept in mind that whilst these headcanons may have been around for a while, they are not directly correct to the source material. As a quick note, since I have seen people within the fandom getting kind of bothered over opposing opinions to the things they assume as canon. That’s not really anybody’s fault, but it does warrant saying, I think.

A Conclusion

Basically, loving a main character is great. Loving a more background character is great. You’re not a better or worse, more intelligent or more basic person for whoever your fave is. The point is, you see something you like in a character and you relate to them, or else just enjoy them. But as fun as that is, characters are tools. They exist for a specific purpose. Sometimes, that purpose doesn’t warrant them having a huge stand out character arc.

But hey, that’s totally okay because we’re fortunate enough to have such a community (arguably, I’d say a genuinely active one too) where we can dream that up ourselves. We can pretty much endlessly explore these possibilities. So, perhaps instead of negativity complaining about certain narrative issues we find (just putting this here: it’s fair to do this, but I don’t think it should be the FOCUS of conversation), we focus on driving that energy into creation. And there’s a lot to play with and create. And honestly, seeing HC posts and all sorts staring these more minor characters is great, and I’m pretty sure the majority would agree with me on that. I fully realise and accept that I have a platform here, and going forward I personally want to be a part of that. In a constructive way, rather than ‘deconstructing’ (yes, there’s a pretty big different as I see it).

(I realise that this last part comes off a bit call out post like, and I want to ensure that it is not intended to be that. I just have a general sense of some attitudes towards things floating around in a very generalised way right now)

[officialjakotsu]

How fandom fucked me up and got me abused

People often say fiction doesn’t effect reality, when defending their “controversial” ships. Firstly. This is complete and utter bullshit as you can find with a quick google search.

Secondly, I want to add in with my own personal experience as to how fiction and fandom was used to lure me into specific mindsets and allowing my abuse.

HEAVY TW FOR ABUSE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT OF A MINOR

When I was 12, I came out as bisexual to a close friend, who we will refer to as L. L, at the time, identified as a girl but has since come out as a trans boy. I will be referring to him with he/him pronouns but I feel it’s important to keep that at the time we believed we were in a same sex relationship. I believe L was 14 at the time (he was one grade above me but a little older for his grade and I have always been one of it not the youngest in my grade due to my birthday.)

L and I had first become acquainted through school and became friends due to shared fandom interests, at the time this being Hetalia. (I could write a whole essay on why Hetalia is bad alone in its effect on people, but that’s not the point. Also I was 12 and didn’t realize it.) After about a year after meeting was when he asked me out and I happily accepted. During our relationship, he also introduced me to Homestuck, which I then became a fan of.

As our relationship continued, we both got very into very roleplay, usually of our favorite ships, most of these being ones L liked that I just liked for him. The important ones to this story being Dirkjake, Dirkhal, Johnjake, and Erisol. With Johnjake, this was a very sneaky way to get me to ship incest. I had not, at the time, realized it was incest. Dirkhal was something I was uncomfortable with, but he pressured me into roleplay with it.

The dynamics between Dirkjake, Dirkhal, and Erisol are... Uncomfortable, to think of now. Dirkjake, as a relationship, canonically failed because it was toxic, and when I read it I was upset they broke up despite how obviously toxic it was. I couldn’t read it as that, because of L. With Dirkhal, it was always roleplay as incredibly passive aggressive between us (the few times I gave in to his begging to roleplay it). Erisol was always roleplayed incredibly aggressive, like how they acted to each other in canon (the characters hate each other.)

These dynamics were romanticized- possessiveness, jealousy, and aggression towards your partner. Then in other fan media I consumed, I found the romanticization of the taking of innocence, of relationships between a caretaker type and the person they were taking care of, of someone incredibly possessive over their partner, of specific types of abuse that made it so much harder for me to realize I was being abused. This was all stuff introduced to me by fandoms, by fanfiction, whether through my own internet usage, or my abuser showing them to me.

I was also drawn into this idea that because it was a “gay” relationship, it was better and more pure than a “hetero” relationship. I was told gay people weren’t abusive. And I believed that.

Fandom taught me these things were okay. Fandom taught my ABUSER these things were okay. So despite how bad it made me feel, how isolated from my family I felt, I thought it was okay. I was the younger one, I told myself this was how relationships were supposed to work because this is how fandom taught me and how my abuser taught me they were. I was inexperienced and I easily swayed because I was a child. Remember, I was a 12 year old when this relationship began. I was 14 when it ended. It was my first relationship. I had no clue how this shit was supposed to work.

Even after the relationship ended I didn’t realize how bad it was. I had found by then it wasn’t good because I saw a post on tumblr warning me about red flags in a relationship and I noticed some of them lined up with L. But even then I didn’t know it was as abusive as it was. It wasn’t until about four years later that it hit me.

Through the romanticization of the dynamics between those relationships, from all the fanfiction, and the fan content, I had gotten abused horrifically. He used this in roleplay, and in our overall relationship, to gaslight me, to abuse and then lovebomb, to excuse himself, and to sexually assault me. He used roleplay to push me into sexual situations I was uncomfortable with (again. I was 12/13/14 during this relationship) and this was an action that was played off as “cute” or “romantic.” He was my “first” in so many things and he loved to coo over my inexperience and lack of knowledge of these things. My childishness was seen as cute. How is this not creepy?

To this day I have trauma. It’s been years but even as I’m typing this out I’m getting itchy and shaky and my chest hurts. I still see L sometimes and every time I do I’m reminded of what he did to me. And he did more outside of fandom too- he tried to ruin my life and tell my friends I cheated on him (I didn’t). I was taken advantage of in so many different ways, because of my introduction to fandom spaces, and the rampant romanticization of abuse in fandoms. I’m not trying to promote “purity culture” or whatever I’m trying to protect vulnerable young kids who are like I used to be, from the situation I was in. My relationship with my mother has never fully recovered. My mental health has never fully recovered. I still have nightmares about him. My relationship with myself is still skewed, and I’m still a fucking doormate because that’s what I was turned into.

Anyway this post is a mess because I can’t fully coherently talk about L, but long story short?

I won’t sit back and let you ship what you want and romanticize what you want. If I can save even one little kid from what I went through, then it’s enough. Fuck you and fuck your ships.

And if any of you pro ship fuckers come on here to complain, you get blocked immediately. I don’t want to hear you defend yourselves on a post where I’ve just told you I was assaulted because of your rhetorics. Fuck you

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 3: Insane Mindscrew Haymakers (Part 1)

BRIGHT: Before Act 3 proper starts, we see a message from Nanna to John, written in the front of the Sassacre’s joke book from Dad’s safe. The message is somewhat bizarre. For one thing, according to Nanna, the book it’s written in will end its journey on the day she dies...and still carry on for a while. For another, it talks about game elements we’ve encountered already, and hints at more to come. Overall it’s a nice bit of detail, enough to whet the reader’s interest.

You are no doubt reading this as a handsome and strapping young man! Why, the mangrit needed to lift the book is itself a sign of your maturity, not even to speak of the wisdom needed to grasp the nuance of Sassacre's time-tested mischief. I am so proud of you, grandson! How I wish I could have delivered this heirloom to you in the flesh. But I am afraid it wasn't in the cards! For you see, John, like you, this book must yet take a journey! Its journey will end on the Final Day of my life, and even then will continue some. Though I suppose that will be up to your Father. Perhaps he will discuss it with you one day, when he and you are ready. But it is your journey I am writing about to wish you luck! There will come a day when you will be thrust into another world. And once you arrive, that is only the beginning! You will soon delve even deeper into a realm of Warring Royalty in a Timeless Expanse. A realm of Agents and Exiles and Consorts and Kernelsprites. Of toiling Underlings and slumbering Denizens. A realm where four will gather, the Heir of Breath and Seer of Light, the Knight of Time and Witch of Space, and together they will Ascend. John, if only you knew how important you were! I regret my passing came so early in your life. And yet I feel in my heart we have already met. But what I know for sure is that we will meet again! Until then, John, I do hope your Father keeps you well fed!

FAILURE ARTIST: As I said earlier, Hussie has artfully defaced books, including one antique one about an expedition around the world. Defaced books show up again in this comic.

CHEL: Particularly, it implies that Nanna also had knowledge of the game during her lifetime, somehow, and refers to the gathering of four heroes. This is our first introduction to the classpect system, which now rivals Hogwarts houses as a method of personality description in fandom at large. I think at the time I didn’t realise who it was referring to… Anyway.

Next, we officially meet GG, the fourth and final member of our gang, a “silly girl” with a cheery grin, sleeping in a greenhouse full of vegetables and spirograph-shaped flowers. Since she’s sleeping and can’t object, she’s referred to for a while as FARMSTINK BUTTLASS, but she’s way ahead of us; under her hand is a note admonishing the reader and declaring her actual name to be Jade Harley. I think she’s the cutest of the kids, myself - just seeing her first appearance makes me happy! All its weaknesses aside, Homestuck’s pretty great at creating painfully cute character designs and attaching a good range of personalities to them.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade Harley was considered a “Mary Sue” when she was first introduced. I don’t know why. Yeah, she has a lot of eccentricities and unusual possessions but so do the other characters.

Farmstink is a reference to an old comic Hussie did about this dude obsessed with the stink of farms. Hussie’s early work is really weird.

CHEL: The reader attempts to wake Jade by dropping a pumpkin carved with an animal’s face on her head, but the pumpkin disappears; as we know, WV now has it. Fortunately for the pacing, Jade wakes up on her own. Look closely, and you’ll notice the symbol on her shirt changes each page; that turns out a bit later to be due to her hi-tech WARDROBIFIER. If I recall correctly, Hussie intended to settle on one chosen by reader vote, but ended up on a cycle of three different ones.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade settles on three icons to appear on her shirt. However, eventually just one icon stays on her shirt. The WARDROBIFIER doesn’t get much use with her, though a later character has the same thing.

CHEL: Jade is also wearing COLORFUL REMINDERS on her fingers, and when the view pans out it’s revealed by the view from the window that her GARDEN ATRIUM is on a high floor. She plays the flute badly for a while in a Flash game; apparently it’s not her preferred instrument. Also fortunately for the pacing, we think, she knows how to use her sylladex, and prefers to set its retrieval function in the form of a memory game because you seem to have a knack for always guessing right on the first try! On checking her reminders, she remembers to wish John happy birthday, gathers some fruit, and heads upstairs by means of a teleporter.

Jade’s bedroom proves to be full of various disturbing-looking plushies, albeit not nearly as disturbing as the Smuppets, hanging baskets and potted plants, a bass guitar, and G-rated furry artwork, including a piece obviously drawn by Dave. Franchises depicted in her toy and poster collections include GREEN SLIME GHOST (the apparent copyright-friendly source of John’s T-shirt and pogo ride), MANTHRO CHAPS (mustachioed human faces on plush animal bodies), and SQUIDDLES (adorable octopi with magnets in their bellies which stick together as Tangle Buddies!). Her favoured weapons are rifles, though she would never shoot an animal, and she has various gadgets on a worktable, including a thing that looks like a disconnected window not unlike those shown in Rose’s book, which she apparently hasn’t been able to get to work.

FAILURE ARTIST: Manthro Chaps is a reference to Hussie’s particularly disturbing set of comics where he plays around with anthropomorphization. Like having an anthro chicken man lay anthro eggs.

CHEL: The comic in question, Humanimals, can be found here; warnings for extreme body horror and general grossness.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade is told by a forum prompter to Lose interest in fauna and never speak of it again. Jade refuses to in a beautiful little speech but she denies she’s a furry. Oh, if she only knew what was coming for her.

Jade looks out the window and we find out she lives somewhere next to a volcano.

CHEL: The very same one which appeared in the animation at the end of the last act, in fact.

Your grandfather is a WORLD RENOWNED EXPLORER-NATURALIST-TREASURE HUNTER-ARCHEOLOGIST-SCIENTIST-ADVENTURER-BIG GAME HUNTER-BILLIONAIRE EXTRAORDINAIRE. He has taught you everything you know.

Grandpa is heavily coded here and in his appearance a bit later as a Great White Hunter, an upper-class European guy who goes to faraway countries in order to shoot the animals there. Of course, non-white people can certainly do that, but white is what people will immediately picture upon seeing the trope. Also note we have another ridiculously wealthy family here. Since all four of the kids have now been introduced and we’ve had a lot of WSP points from their races and financial statuses already, here we get another HOW NOT TO point as well.

The Country Club Here every single character is white and middle-to-upper class. Unless your novel is taking place in rural Sweden, this will eventually give the reader the eerie feeling that some form of ethnic cleansing has taken place. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 14 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 7

One could argue that some form of ethnic cleansing is taking place, since these are the kids who are surviving the apocalypse, though that’s not actually fair because there are plenty of other SBurb sessions all across the world which might also succeed.

Jade opens her GADGET CHEST and produces several more items pertaining to her interests, including her computer, which she keeps in a Squiddles lunchbox. Several fortune-telling items are included among them, but according to Jade they are not the source of her abilities. The Magic 8-Ball is apparently usually wrong, responding to being asked whether it’s John’s birthday today with NOT EXACTLY, and the Magic Cue Ball is supposedly always right but is impossible to read, making it completely useless.

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s another Problem Sleuth reference (or rather Problem Sooth) but what’s important is the Magic Cue Ball. Unlike her Magic 8-Ball, it has no window where one can read the prediction. If only Jade had a special vision. Perhaps an eightfold vision.

Jade goes to feed BEC. She has some sylladex trouble until she finally just takes a steak out of her fridge.

CHEL: Once again, the sylladex shenanigans waste several pages.

GET ON WITH IT!: 9

Bec’s identity is as yet unknown, but recall that Dave called him a “devilbeast” in an earlier conversation, and when he suggested shooting Bec Jade said she didn’t think she could if she tried. He also apparently eats nothing but steaks (lucky Grandpa’s a billionaire), so Jade is living on an island with apparently minimal supervision from her guardian and an allegedly dangerous carnivore running wild outside. Like Dave, at this point it seems to be very lucky she’s a cartoon character.

FAILURE ARTIST: Using a special oven she irradiates the steak. Umm, I think Bec can take that but I worry about Jade.

Jade finds and plays her elaborate bass and she’s much better at it than with the flute. During the flash, the camera pulls out and we find out where she lives: in a tower on a small volcanic island with a frog temple in the lagoon. An airplane goes by and drops a package.

Jade uses her super high-tech “lunchtop” to have a conversation with John. Nothing special about that but we see on her chumroll a bunch of unfamiliar handles. Hmm.

CHEL: The unfamiliar handles are listed in the “Trollslum”, which one presumes is a blocklist. I think you have to see just how hi-tech the lunchtop is:

"Jade: Get down to business." (Watch on YouTube)

Hussie’s really coming into his own with the animations by now.

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave has sent her some messages begging her to wake up and unfortunately one line has the f-slur in it.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 7

In the end, he decides she’ll probably forget what he says.

CHEL: Begging her to wake up” doesn’t exactly cover it.

TG: youre asleep again arent you TG: or do you even know if you are TG: i still dont know how that works TG: its like nothing means anything

Apparently Jade sometimes talks to him while she’s sleeping.

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s a little flash where you can listen to some of Dave’s tunes. When you’re done with that, you can join her in looking at mspadventures.com. A crude John wearing a wizard hat is sitting on his lawn with the caption

It begins to dawn on you that everything you just did may have been a colossal waste of time.

What the hell is going on here? Is Jade reading what John is doing right now?

CHEL: I think it’s just a fourth wall joke, but it’s certainly accurate, considering our GET ON WITH IT count.

FAILURE ARTIST: Next, we get this flash called Midnight Crew: Act 1031. If you are watching it in 2019, the song playing is Dead Shuffle by Mark Hadley. However, the song was originally Nightlife by Bill Bolin. Unfortunately, Bolin had a dispute with Hussie over Hussie using music that Bolin considered WIP. Bolin blew up and called Hussie “unprofessional” and in a very professional move posted a photo of himself giving the double deuce. It’s a shame this happened since Nightlife is a jauntier and more appropriate tune.

CHEL: The Midnight Crew, to be specific, are gangsters with card-themed names who bear a striking resemblance to WV, living in a mysterious purple city full of towers, pitted against the Felt, another gang of odd-looking green fellows who wear bowler hats with numbers on them, in the colour schemes of a set of pool balls.

Hussie did make reference in the previous page to a “weird tangential intermission [which] clearly advanced the plot in no way whatsoever”, implying that it actually is relevant, and the purple city and its shiny black beady-eyed inhabitants look very familiar, but since as far as we know at this point the Midnight Crew is just a comic-within-a-comic, you know which counts get added to.

GET ON WITH IT!: 10 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 2

Just for the record, the leader of the gang is named Spades Slick, and yes, we’re aware that “spade” is a slur against black people, which makes it slightly unfortunate to be applied as a name to a black-shelled alien creature. However, we’re not counting that as PROBLEMATYKKS because Hussie and the Crew’s original writer certainly did not intend that. It’s not that commonly used a term from what I’ve seen, the playing cards would be the more likely immediate association, and with the other characters being Clubs Deuce, Hearts Boxcars, and Diamonds Droog, it’s just an unfortunate coincidence. If he was a black human, then I’d object more strenuously.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade talks with Dave (I think the conversation is a repeat?)

CHEL: Yep.

GET ON WITH IT!: 11

FAILURE ARTIST: Finally, we get the flash we’ve been waiting for: Dave strifes with his mysterious guardian. Or rather, he strifes with Lil Cal while Bro is a speed blur.

BRIGHT: Unlike the other strifes up to this point, the reader can’t do anything other than watch, because Bro slices the command box in half right at the start.

TIER: In the world of Homestuck, the parental units are overall just really weird! Like dad Egbert severe overabundance of cakes and mom Lalonde's drunken dysfunction. It's overall all hilarious, fitting with the tone and humor of the story well!

But then we have our lovely outlier. The one, the hated, The. Bro “a huge bastard honestly” Strider! A.K.A basically the one guardian whose questionable parenting gets the Real Consequences treatment later on in this tale. Peculiar that.

CHEL: Now, under most circumstances, an adult man beating the hell out of a barely-teenage kid, on the precarious rooftop of a high-rise building no less, would be horrifying. However, Bro chooses to hit Dave with his puppet, which… is frankly hard to take seriously. Obviously it would still hurt if a real person did that, but it looks so stupid that the immediate assumption is that it’s a joke.

BRIGHT: Particularly when earlier strife moves like Rose’s ‘Empty Suicide Threat’ were intended to be humorous. This is about on the same level as that, in terms of severity!

TIER: Being smacked around by the flopping noodle limbs of a freaky puppet is honestly hard to take seriously. Hell, this entire sequence is chock full of outlandish “Rule of Cool” bullshit and I am Peeved that I was apparently supposed to look at this sequence of ridiculous events and go “OBVIOUSLY THIS IS FUCKED UP AND ABUSIVE”.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 7

CHEL: I could kinda see that with hindsight from the rest of the comic, but definitely not “OBVIOUSLY THIS IS A LOT MORE FUCKED UP AND ABUSIVE THAN THE OTHER AWFUL FAMILY CIRCUMSTANCES”, which is what was apparently intended. And we also get another HOW NOT TO point, which we’ll give now even though the official “reveal” comes much later.

A Novel Called It - wherein an abusive parent exists Bad parents are everywhere in unpublished fiction. Whole cities of abusive fathers and sneering mothers live in the pages of books that can’t be sold. While occasionally, and notably in the horror genre, this sort of material can be made good (Carrie, V. C. Andrews), most cruel parents in fiction are just as much fun as they are in real life. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 14

That damn puppet gets creepier every time, admittedly, more so now that Bro is moving so fast that the thing appears to be dancing on Dave’s head under its own power. Dave’s expressions look more annoyed than afraid or hurt, however, in my opinion.

FAILURE ARTIST: Anyway, we go back to Jade. Rose is pestering her.

TT: I require a font of frighteningly accurate yet infuriatingly nonspecific information. TT: Do you know where I can find a wellspring of this sort?

Very business-like, isn’t it? Rose and Jade’s relationship is a big missed opportunity in this comic. They’re more like friends-of-friends than friends.

CHEL: I don’t know, that sounds to me like how Rose talks to the boys too; facetiously formal. Still, they don’t converse nearly as much as the boys do with each other or them. Male writers in particular tend to do this, and it’s not entirely their faults. People are socialised to think women talk a lot more than they do, so he probably didn’t notice.

TIER: A real shame honestly, we were fucking robbed of some peak interactions between a sunshine flower child and a “dark and brooding” baby goth. Fucking. Robbed.

FAILURE ARTIST: We find out that Jade was the one who had the idea of playing Sburb. She had told Rose that the game would answer some of Rose’s unnamed questions. Rose wants more information on this Big Day. Jade says the game will not be what Rose thinks it is and will answer questions Rose hasn’t thought of yet. On that mysterious note, Jade says goodbye.

CHEL: We check in briefly with Rose in the present, confirming that she’s found the secret passage and is escaping the fire, bringing the corpse of her cat along with her, then to John, who is doing much worse. The ogres (the giant tusked imps) have cornered him, and while he flails frantically about with his Pogo Hammer it doesn’t do much good. They beat the snot out of him with the old Sassacre book and the tire swing, then send him flying into the abyss; fortunately, Nannasprite is able to catch him on his bed and provide healing, allowing him to flail uselessly at the ogres again and get beaten up again, ad infinitum.

Back in the desert, a giant worm-like creature emerges from PM’s bunker and chows down on the cart full of mailboxes. PM is displeased, and puts a hand on the hilt of an ornate black sword.

Cut back to the FAQ, which John has found time to edit with information about the punch card system. He doesn’t know if anyone is left alive to play the game, but Rose asked him to add to it, so he will. He’s figured out with his 133t h4x0r 5k1llz that the captcha code on the back of the cards is converted into a binary-based pattern on the cards, 0 being blank and 1 being a punched hole. Overlapping the cards functions like a bitwise AND operation, causing both to be enacted. The 48-hole card system allows for 300 trillion combinations, but John lampshades the fact that this couldn’t possibly cover every conceivable captchable item, and that various combinations of overlapping cards would just produce the same combination. This is just adding to my conviction that the system ought to be reworked; the totems alone would probably allow for a much wider range, if one gets down to the atomic level of their shape. Then again, those would be a lot harder to merge… Still, I’m sure there’s some way to work it.

BRIGHT: This section was kind of surprising to me because up to this point we haven’t had much if any description of John being into coding, so the section came out of left field somewhat. Not bad, necessarily, just jarring.

CHEL: Actually, he did mention in his intro that he likes to program, albeit not very well, he had some coding books on his shelves, and the icons on his computer are named in a way which implies they’re some of his attempts at coding. However, this interest never really comes up again later that I remember.

Meanwhile, the secret passage Rose followed led to her mother’s laboratory, which bears the logo “SN” with a stylised atom and a spirograph pattern in the loops of the S. It seems Mom Lalonde knows more than she’s letting on about the game. Inside the laboratory is an enormous HUBGRID of devices into which the laptop can be plugged.

FAILURE ARTIST: Rose uses that ol’ r-slur when she says she won’t go on the pad so that’s another point.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 8

CHEL: Jade uses the TRANSPORTALIZER to travel most of the way down to the ground floor, but not all the way down because the one on that floor is blocked. As she walks down the last couple of flights of stairs, we see Grandpa’s own collections of stuff; taxidermised animal heads, suits of armour, mummified corpses (made by pasting in photographs to the cartoon background, it’s creepy as hell), and his BLUE BEAUTIES, or the DAUGHTERS OF ECLECTICA; sun-bleached portrait photographs of beautiful women. On the final floor, we are confronted with the thing blocking the final portal; a gigantic preserved monster with a white head and green serpentine body. It took me till just now to figure it out but I think the white part is supposed to be a human torso on the snake tail; at first it just looked like a snake wearing a stocking mask. That’s what happens when the humans don’t have arms.

Jade thought she had logged off from Pesterchum, but suddenly it pings again, and here we are introduced to an entirely new section of the cast. We’re probably not spoiling anything by not being mysterious about them at this point in the fandom’s history, but just in case, we’ll stick to doing the reveals when the comic does. The person talking to Jade is one of the names from her TROLLSLUM, under the handle carcinoGeneticist; they gloat about being “BETTER AND SMARTER THAN YOU, FOREVER” when asked how they’re still contacting Jade after being blocked, and mock her about today being “FINALLY THE DAY YOU FUCK EVERYTHING UP”. Angry, Jade blocks them again.

FAILURE ARTIST: I had forgotten that “they” appeared so early.

CHEL: Well, “appear” is stretching it; the TROLLSLUM only make contact through Pesterchum for a while yet. And when they show up, we’ll have both plenty of skilfully-written points to pick out and plenty of counts to apply.

[thechildoflightning]

Satellite

Title: Satellite

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Background CALM/LAMP

part of the jksf verse

~

Summary: 

To put in simple terms- Logan and his sister don't talk.

To make it more complex- Well are you sure you want to open that can of worms? - Or: Logan and his sister have played the blame game for years. It's time to metaphorically clear the air. But doing so brings up a lot more than simple sibling rivalry.

Warnings: Unhealthy Family Dynamics, Internal and External Ableism, ABA Therapy and Practices

[ao3 link]

~

Satellite

It was approaching dark on the fourth of July when Logan decided to make his way outside. He and his sister had both been home for three weeks now, and neither had made an effort to really talk to each other. Not that the lack of communication was unusual, in fact it was quite normal for them. Now, nearing dusk, Logan was attempting to change that.

He opened the front door and slipped out, his headphones around his neck as an upcoming precaution against the fireworks he knew were bound to go off.

In the past few hours there had been minor bursts; mostly kids playing around with Bang Snaps and the like. Nothing large had been set quite yet, as it was still early evening and no one wished to waste the colorful bursts in a sky that was still light.

Veera, his sister, was sitting out on the deck, half-reading a book as she watched some of the children on the street race around in hyperactive excitement.

Logan carefully took a seat next to her, letting the sound of the neighborhood reach him. The kids were loud, but the space around them trapped their voices and made them seem far away. Parents muttered on decks and the faint smell of BBQ and potlucks was in the air.

Logan’s own parents were inside. When they were younger, his parents had done more to celebrate the holiday, most notably bringing them to the 4th of July parade and buying small fountain fireworks.

The holiday had always been Logan’s least favorite. The bustle of activity combined with the noise of the parade, fireworks, other activities already provided an overwhelming amount of sensory input. Add in the overwhelming smells emanating from grills, perfumes, and gunpowder, well it had always been quite a bit more that just “too much” for him. All of the excessive stimulation was truly agonizing.

As a child it had led to overwhelming meltdowns that had his parents dragging him inside by his arm telling him to behave and not ruin the holiday for everyone else. He wouldn’t even be able to respond, shutting down at the best and getting violent at worst. He would scream and shake but his parents would just yell at him and sometimes even cry, and well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone.

In result of this, he was more than happy his parents had stopped making such a big fuss out of the holiday. He definitely preferred it over the alternative.

It was during this inner reflection when the first of the fireworks went off with a loud bang and a flash of color.

Logan jumped and slammed his hands over his ears. The loud noise echoed inside his head and he gritted his teeth in a futile attempt to protect against it.

As quick as he could, he took his hands off his ears to grab the headphones around his neck. He placed the headphones over his ears to better block out the noise.

He could still hear the bangs, but they were not nearly as deafening and overstimulating as before. Logan started to rock back and forth gently as he stared up at the colorful explosions.

Veera turned to give him a look at the action, then rolled her eyes and stared back up at the sky.

Logan’s heart dropped and he stopped rocking.

The noise- which had seemed manageable just moments ago- started to build.

It was then he remembered an old conversation with Patton and Virgil. A conversation that led to research and explanations about stimming. Because that’s what the rocking was- it was a stim. And he shouldn’t have to be ashamed of that. He knew that. And even if he forgot, his boyfriends were quick to remind him over and over again, as many times as he needed.

He had momentarily forgotten that and started to feel ashamed of his stims. That’s why he had stopped rocking. Veera had given him that look and he had remembered everything he had been taught, everything he had been told to hate about himself.

He was ashamed, but he shouldn't have to be.

The noise from the fireworks continued to build.

Logan made his decision, and continued to rock.

The noise settles slightly, falling back into the manageable sensory range, and Veera didn’t spare him another look.

The two of them watched the flashing colors for what had to be hours before they started to dim. And just dim- not stop completely- even though it, again, had to have been hours. Not that he had been expecting any different, America could be quite extravagant when it came to such a holiday.

The noise had also reduced to a much more manageable level, so Logan slid his headphones off, even as he continued to rock.

Veera side-eyed him as Logan slipped his headphones off, and he decided that now was as good of time as any.

“We haven’t talked much this summer,” Logan commented.

Veera let out a soft scoffing noise before speaking up.

“Logan, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve never really talked that much,” she stated.

“We did as children,” he insisted, and then before she could reply to that he continued you on, “I know I’ve told you this before, but I’ve been dating someone over a year now. Patton. And he talks to his siblings all the time. And, a friend of mine, Roman, does the same.”

Logan felt a little guilty of calling Roman his friend instead of boyfriend, but he hadn’t had the chance to explain the concept of polyamory to his family, and now was not the time. He continued to rock.

“The both of them talk to their siblings quite fondly, and often. They do occasionally fight with their siblings, and get into quarrels, but they always come back to each other just as close. We don’t do that,” Logan continued.

“We don’t,” Veera agreed, shifting slightly to place her book off to the side from its position on her lap.

Logan took it as a sign that she was indeed listening to him.

“Why don’t we?” he asked.

She gave him another look, one that Logan was absolutely unable to decipher.

“You know why we don’t talk Logan,” she said.

Logan did not.

But even so, he scrambled for some sort of solution. He had no clue what she was referring to, but she obviously expected him to know- which meant he missed something vital in a previous interaction.

He rushed to locate exactly what he had missed, because he tended to miss a lot of things with other people and he couldn’t ask questions because he was supposed to know these things, was supposed to know how humans work because he was one and why couldn’t he just figure this out like he was supposed to?

He paused for a breath and took a figurative step back.

He missed something in a human interaction, something that he knew tended to be a result of his poor social skills, most probably stemming from being autistic. That’s all it was. He didn’t understand because that’s how his brain was programmed. It worked differently, and that was okay.

It was also okay to ask for help and guidance. If someone refused, that was their own fault.

“Veera,” he spoke up, “I- I actually don’t know why we don’t talk. I don’t have a clue why.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Logan, you’ve always been the center of our parents' attention. They devoted everything to you. And like I get it or whatever. Mom and Dad didn't expect to have a kid who has autism.

“But that then meant that everything was about you. ‘Oh Logan finally did this!’ ‘Logan looked me in the eye’ ‘Logan’s new therapy seems to be going really well.’ They always, always, have cared about you more. And again- I get it. But it meant nothing was ever about me. Everything was always Logan, Logan, Logan.”

Logan could only slowly rock in numb silence as her words crashed over him.

The first thing that seemed to come from that numbness was anger, because plain and simple- her assessment wasn’t fair. And that made him angry and hurt.

Here was Veera complaining about him taking away their parent’s attention when he had never asked for it. She also claimed that they cared for him more even after they put him through tortuous programs that forced him to behave as neurotypical as possible. Plus, they always talked about Veera. How many times had Logan heard ‘Why can’t you just be more like your sister’ growing up.

How many times had he been compared to Veera’s perfection?

She was always the achiever, and Logan’s parents loved her for it, and hated him for never meeting her standard.

“That’s not fair,” he protested as he ceased his rocking. He clenched his hands and his fingers dug in deeply into his palms. “That’s not fair,” he repeated.

“Life’s not fair Logan,” was Veera’s bitter response.

“No,” Logan insisted, “No, no, no,” and he was choking a bit on his words now. It was getting harder and harder to talk, to just get them out, but he had to, “Mom and Dad did spend a lot of time dealing with me. But it’s not fair to say that they cared about me more than you.

“All they did was try to make me easier to handle. That’s not care at all. I may have gotten more attention than you, but you’re assuming that the attention was positive, which it wasn’t.

“And even if I was cared for more or given more love, it’s still not fair for you to be mad at me about that. Because I didn’t do anything. I didn’t ask for any of that. Our parents chose to do that, but that was their decision. I had nothing to do with it.

“And it’s unfair that you say I was cared for more. Because I was always compared to you. I was always told that you were perfect and I knew that I would never meet that standard. Our parents knew it too. And that disappointed them,” Logan explained.

When he finished he took a deep breath to center himself. He felt tears start to poke at the corner of his eyes. Weird, he hadn’t realized he had gotten this emotional over the conversation.

“I mean, sure, but if you hadn’t been-” Veera cut herself off.

Logan closed his eyes harshly as he held back tears. He may not be the best at nonverbal language and cues, but he knew how to fill in this particular blank.

“If I hadn’t been autistic,” he said.

His hands gripped tighter in on themselves, and he had to fight the urge to sit on them or shove them into his pockets.

“I-” Veera floundered. She ducked her head, “Yeah,” she admitted quietly, “If you hadn’t been autistic. A lot of the things that are issues started around that.”

“They might of started around that,” Logan admitted, as the first tear fell from his eye, “But it’s not fair to say that’s what caused it.”

“Then what did?” she challenged.

“Maybe it wasn’t me being the autistic that was the problem, but our parents inability to support an autistic child.”

“That- I get what you’re saying Lo- but that’s not- they did everything for you.”

“No,” he whispered, “No they didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone taking on a startling biting edge.

“I-” Logan tried, “Have you ever looked up what autistic people have to say about ABA?”

“What? Logan what does this have to do with anything? “

“Look it up?”

She frowned at him but pulled out her phone. For a few minutes she typed and scrolled. Eventually, she turned back to him. Logan was surprised to find her cheeks were stained with tears. She reached up a hand to wipe a few away. Logan’s own tears continued to slowly drip from his lashes.

“Oh,” was all she offered.

“Yeah,” Logan said.

“Oh.”

“Do you remember when you bought me the book Seeing Stars by Sarah Gillingham for my sixth birthday?” Logan asked abruptly.

Veera let out a watery chuckle and sniffled.

“You remember that?” she asked him.

“Yes, of course,” he aid quickly, “It was- is my favorite book. I still have it.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. He hesitated, he looked up, briefly making eye contact with her before pulling his gaze a bit upward to look at her forehead.

“I want us to be like we were on that day. I opened the package and was so excited. And you hugged me tightly and laughed as I rambled about our solar system. After I was done, you pulled me on the back and opened the book to read the first page to me.

“I couldn’t sit still and kept jumping up and down, which must of hurt considering I was sitting on top of you. But you didn’t complain. You just laughed and smiled and read to me. I want us to be able to have that again.”

She hesitated. Logan saw her hesitate, and he knew it was now or never. He would convince her or not. This was it.

“I have a lot of resentment,” he admitted, “And a lot of that resentment used to be directed towards you. Because you could be really mean as a child. When I used to have meltdowns you used to scream at me, telling you you hated me and to shut up. And that hurt. But I get it, I understand now. And I forgive you.

“The truth is, the only resentment I hold now is towards our parents. Because they were the ones that were supposed to teach and guide us. Instead they pitted us against one another and were unable to handle us. They never scolded you because they didn’t know what to do.

“You were a child, and so was I. None of what we did had malicious intent. Both of us were hurting and we didn’t know what to do. Our parents failed us in that regard. But that wasn’t our responsibility. We were children.”

At the end of his mini speech, both him and Veera were crying heavily.

They two of them were silent cries. Silent cries because they had both learned to hide such a thing.

Logan hid it because he always cried about the wrong things. The texture of food wasn’t something he was supposed to cry about after all, he was just supposed to eat it dammit.

Vera hid it because she learned it was distracting. If she was crying it took away from Logan’s time, and Logan needed the extra help, you understand right sweetheart?

They were crying because at the age of adults they were still lost children.

“I think Mom and Dad are trying a bit more now,” Logan eventually got out as the tear tracks on his face refused to leave, “I haven’t talked to them for a while ago. And I- well I don’t think they’re ready for us to have a conversation about what autism really is and what ABA does and everything.

“But, I think they know something along the line got messed up between us. We both know something is missing. I- I think they’re trying to figure out what.

“And maybe- well maybe you should talk to them too. I- I don't think they meant to hurt us. I know that doesn’t excuse it by any means, but I think, I do think they care about us. I think they care enough to try for us. That, at the very least, is important to me.”

“God Logan Berry, when did you get so smart?” Veera asked.

“Well if we’re relating ‘smart’ in terms of brain development, the brain develops the most in the first two years of life and finally stops around age 25. If we’re talking about ‘smart’ as in over all knowledge, I actually know very little of all that is out there, and such knowledge would be hard to compare to other human beings. Plus we would then have to factor in the possible existence of aliens as well as the possibility that knowledge is infinite and therefore impossible to measure. Or we talking ‘smart’ in the way of in tune with others? Because I’m particularly bad about that too. Really, the word ‘smart’ has so many definitions and ultimately is subjective and therefore undefinable,” Logan rattled off.

She smiled a bit at him before releasing a quiet huff of laughter, but Logan didn’t think it was directed at him. She then looked back at the sky, which now seemed to be absolutely devoid of all fireworks.

“You said you wanted to talk more?” she asked.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Okay,” she said with a nod, “Let’s talk more.”

Thinks weren’t suddenly perfect between them, and perhaps they would never be, but they had started the process of reconnecting. That in itself was worth a chance.

The two of them spent another hour outdoors, just staring upwards. Logan pointed out the constellations that were visible in the polluted sky, and only decided to go back inside once their constant yawning was too much to ignore. They gathered themselves and headed inside, quietly say goodnight to the velvet blanket above them.

And somehow, the stars seemed to glow brighter than ever before.

~~~

taglist:

-message me to be added or taken off-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic

[ikementally-deficient]

I want to take a minute off from my endless stream of smut and snarky comments about otome screencaps to talk about something. Lemme just dig out my soapbox here.

Privilege in Writing.

I see a lot of snark, mostly from shitty anons but not always, about people’s writing quality, specifically in fanfiction. Leaving aside the sheer ungrateful arrogance of bitching about something people are mostly doing for fun, for free, and because they want to share something that inspired them with other people, let’s talk about what I mean by privilege and how it relates.

I’m gonna use myself as an object lesson, bear with me. This gets long.

I am, from a purely technical perspective (this isn’t about creativity or ideas today), a pretty good writer. I have a very large vocabulary. I have a strong grounding in things like sentence structure, clarity of syntax, and the nitty gritty architecture of prose like punctuation and spelling. I understand narrative structure, characterization, and story beats.

Here’s where the privilege comes in:

I’m a native English speaker. The bulk of fandom (and this will vary by fandom, but it’s definitely a factor), is reading in English, which, by the way, is a really confusing language to learn, especially as an adult. 

I come from a family of university educated professionals. My grandmother held a Master of Library Sciences. She taught me to read. I grew up surrounded by books, and was encouraged to make use of them.

My family is well-off enough that my grand-parents were very comfortably retired, and so had both the time to spend with me reading, and the money to provide me with more reading material as gifts for holidays and birthdays.

I have always lived in cities where I had, and continue to have, free and unfettered access to very extensive library systems.

My parents, though divorced, were both well off enough that I never had to balance school and work as a teenager. Although they insisted I get summer jobs when I turned 16, I was never forced to sacrifice study time to help support my household.

I was fortunate enough in high school to have very good teachers, who took extra time to nurture my love of reading and writing.

I have a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature. I grew up in Quebec, where tuition is extremely low for permanent residents, even compared to other Canadian provinces. My semesters in Concordia’s Literature Program cost less than 2000$ a quarter (back in the early 2000s).

Now, as an adult, I have managed to always maintain a large enough living space that my collection of books, both fiction and reference, is always to hand.

This is just the really obvious stuff. To whit:

I have anxiety and ADHD. I had enough spare money to find myself a therapist privately, a healthcare system that covers the cost of my psychiatrist, and a job that provides me excellent benefits to cover the cost of my medications.

I have a (now nearly) six-month-old child. I live, again, in a country that provides me with up to 18 months of paid maternity leave. That’s right, Canada is paying me to stay home with my kid. (It’s not nearly as much as I make when I’m actually working, but it keeps the lights on) If I had been forced to go back to work right after giving birth, I assure you I would have neither the time nor the required mental health to write.

I have a partner who is a fully engaged father to our child and participates in the maintenance of our household so I don’t have to carry either load alone.

We have a roommate who adores our child and is happy to take charge of him for a couple of hours so I can shower/nap/just get some quiet time.

What does all of this mean?

It means that I’m writing, in my native language, about works I’ve consumed in my native language. I grew up in an environment that was practically tailor-made to nurture this kind of creative work. My education focused exactly on this type of expression from my first year of high school all the way to the end of university. I have enough resources, both personal and social/civic, to continue educating myself whenever I have the desire to do so. I have enough of a support network, both personal and social/civic, to help me manage any personal issues or conditions that might impact my ability to write (and do a lot of other stuff, not going to lie). 

I have a partner and housemate who both encourage me in this hobby, and work to give me the time to indulge it. I have the time and headspace both to write without hurrying, and to be able to go back and review my work before posting it.

If my family had been less educated before I was even born, if my grandparents hadn’t had enough money to retire as they did, if my parents had made less money and I’d had to work more regularly during high school and university, if I lived somewhere with no libraries and no health care, if I had had to pay US tuition rates, if I couldn’t afford my medication or to get diagnosed in the first place, if I’d had to go back to work right after giving birth instead of having time to recover physically and mentally . . . 

The list of ways in which I have been privileged that support my writing and quality thereof is very long. Trust me, this doesn’t even come close to addressing all the socioeconomic, racial, and linguistic factors that are at play here, but I’m rubbing up against a thousand words here and I think I’ve made my point. 

So, to all of you people who are writing in your second or third language, who are writing at the end of a long work day, who are scribbling in two minute increments in the bathroom because you’re the only parent, who didn’t grow up with a copy of the Concise OED on the dinner table, who haven’t had time over the years to absorb through osmosis literary and syntactical tropes because you actually had to work after school or couldn’t afford books, to all the people who didn’t even realise writing was a thing you wanted to do until you saw this one show or played that game last week:

Keep writing. Fuck the haters. I love you, and as long as you keep at it, you’ll get better, and as long as you love what you’re doing it doesn’t matter if you get better anyways, but I promise you will. 

To everyone else: 

Keep your goddamned nitpicking to yourself. Stop making people cry and ruining their love of creating because they didn’t match up to whatever arbitrary quality standards you’ve established in your head. Check your fucking privilege. 

[aelaer]

Hey aelaer, I have a question and since you seem to have been writing fanfic forever, I think you're a good person to ask this. I have a crossover idea with Doctor Strange and another universe, but to my dismay someone has already written something similar (not the same universe). I did have my story plotted out already, but there's some key concepts that can't be avoided I don't know if I should give up. I don't want to be accused of plagiarism even if the story is completely different.

Hi, thanks for thinking of me for your question! I have a tendency to ramble (and I ended up writing an essay for this) so let me answer you immediately: yes, you should still write it.

Now the rest of the answer delves into the why, in entirely too much detail as I am wont to do.

According to plagiarism.org, Merriam Webster defines the following items as plagiarism:

to steal and pass off (the ideas or words of another) as one’s own

to use (another’s production) without crediting the source

to commit literary theft

to present as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing source

For instance, if I were to state that the above was my own words, I would be plagiarizing both Merriam Webster and plagiarism.org (which is just irony at its finest).

Figuring out how to avoid plagiarizing words is easy: don’t copy-paste words that aren’t yours and declare them as yours. Slight rewording of the content doesn’t keep it from being plagiarism, either. The issue of ideas, however, is a good deal more difficult to quantify, especially in the creative space.

The Office of Research Integrity starts off by giving us a base point of idea plagiarism with the sciences in the following statement:

“In the sciences, as in most other scholarly endeavors, ethical writing demands that any ideas, data, and conclusions borrowed from others and used as the foundation of one’s own contributions to the literature, be properly acknowledged. The specific manner in which we make such acknowledgement may vary depending on the context and even on the discipline, but it often takes the form of either a footnote or a reference citation.”

This makes sense. In many educational systems kids are taught to properly site sources for information, which extends to ideas within the scientific community. If you are building your thesis on cancer research upon the discoveries of other researchers, they need to be referenced and cited properly (and it builds credibility for your own studies).

But how does this apply to creative writing, or indeed any creative medium? Obviously you don’t see footnotes for every source of inspiration in popular fiction across creative media, and it’s not like magical schools are banned from fiction because JK Rowling wrote a series about such a place. How do the rules of plagiarism of ideas that have a clear guideline in formal writing adapt to the creative arts?

To answer this question I am first going to turn to the modern legal system. Every country has its own set of laws regarding the protection of original works and ideas, but for the sake of ease the following is based on US laws and definitions. If you’re interested in your own country’s specific laws (and how they differ from what is stated here) I recommend a quick Google search.

Copyright is a concept that puts some (but not all) acts of plagiarism into a legal liability. It came into form as the printing press (and printed works) became more popular, but has grown significantly over the past 150 years as new technology and new ways to distribute media have come into play. As Wikipedia succinctly summarizes, “In law, copyright is the exclusive right, given to the creator of a work, to reproduce the work, usually for a limited time. Copyright protects the original expression of an idea in the form of a creative work, but not the idea itself. A copyright is subject to limitations based on public interest considerations, such as the fairuse doctrine in the United States.” This is how parody and criticism are protected, for instance.

It’s important to note that copyright protects the specifics, but not the actual idea. For instance, Marvel (and thus, Disney) have the copyright to the story of Stephen Strange, the arrogant surgeon that had a terrible car crash and went to Kamar-Taj and learned the ways of the Mystic Arts. However, if someone were to write about Trevor Baker, the arrogant baseball player that lost his arm in a car accident and went to a secret society in Japan to learn magic to become a sorcerer, there is no copyright protection. The idea is the same (and perhaps plagiarized), but there is enough difference to make it its own work.

You may note that, under that copyright definition and the current state of US law, all fanfiction are copyright infringements. Alongside that, all fanfiction can be considered a plagiarism of ideas in the eyes of some original creators. However, you’ll find that most authors, studios, and creative organizations are tolerant and sometimes encouraging of fanfiction and other fan-derived works so long as it’s not done for profit and clearly stated to be a fan-derived work (one time commissionsseem to be a grey area that most seem okay with, but something like art prints of copyrighted or trademarked characters is not something I’ve found definite rules for, and I imagine that it is also on a case by case basis; publishing written fanfiction works widely for profit is a big no for most creators). For more on this subject and how fan-derived works have fared legally, take a look at this wiki article, which mostly looks at cases within the United States but is still an interesting read. For more details about specific cases you can go to the sources linked.

You’ll note that, since copyright law does not protect ideas, that it doesn’t really fall into the scenario prompted in the original ask. The reason I bring up copyright is that it is important to recognize the differences between copyright and plagiarism.

I think Sara F Hawkins (an actual attorney, unlike me) states it best in her article about it. She has a whole list of the differences between copyright and plagiarism, but I think for the sake of this topic, this point is especially relevant to us: “Plagiarism is a violation of moral, ethical, or organization norms not laws.”

So let’s look at this case from those three viewpoints (for the sake of ease, I am using this definition to show the difference between ethics and morals. I don’t know if it’s right, but it’s useful).

Moral: The plagiarism of ideas and where it stands on a moral ground really varies from person to person. For instance, one may accuse me of plagiarizing @amethyst-noir​‘s ideas with the embellished or different spins on the prompts and asks received in her inbox. However, my moral stance would be that this falls into inspiration rather than plagiarism because there is enough of my own work within these prompts. This is a stronger argument as I also have her full support (as well as the support of a couple of the anons), but even if I didn’t, I think that if you put enough of your own spin onto the base of an idea, you craft it enough to make it your own. Many, many stories follow the same general plot lines and tropes; that does not mean they are all plagiarizing each other. Furthermore, the original ask makes it sound like you, anon, did not know this story existed after crafting the outline, making the argument null. How can you plagiarize something you did not know existed? You can’t, not from a moral standpoint.

Ethical: Unfortunately this one is a bit harder and the one you seem most concerned about. There is no one culture amongst the fan fiction community, and even every fandom has its own set of different communities with their own sets of norms, leaving this not entirely possible to predict. Instead I would rather critically examine the key plot points that are the same as this writer and figure out if they are relatively common tropes or entirely too specific to each other. For instance, if there’s a kidnapping, that’s in half the fiction out there. It’s way too broad a trope to be considered an idea one can really plagiarize. However, if both your story and theirs feature a kidnapping of the same character in the same spot with the same method after a very similar series of events, then there may be more people that see the similarities between them.If you want to take precaution against overzealous fans of the other work, upon publication of your own story, you can outright mention that you found a work similar to yours well after beginning your story and that any similarities are unintentional, with a link and a positive plug to the story in particular. You could even reach out to the author themselves before publishing, but I don’t think this is necessary, especially since you are crossing over a wholly different world (which already distinguishes itself as a different piece of work in regards to the base idea in most cases).

Organization: The authority on transformative works is usually considered to be AO3. AO3 would not pull a work for very similar ideas; if that were the case, the hurt/comfort, chatroom, and E-rating categories would be much, much smaller than they are now. So no worries on that end.

I cannot predict the behavior of your reviewers, anon, and without specifics I cannot say how similar your work is to this work already published, but I hope that everything I outlined above gives you an idea of where to go from here.

I am going to end this essay of an answer with something I found in my research on this subject. I came across this fantastic article by a Jonathan Bailey about the plagiarism of ideas and how they apply in US patent law (unlike copyright law, you can patent ideas), and what it would mean for the creative space if they were applied similarly. I recommend reading the whole article, but this passage especially stood out to me:

The best thing that we can do is realize that, in the eyes of the law, the value of a creative work is in its execution, not the idea behind it. As such, we have to take it upon ourselves not only to be original, but to carry out our visions the best possible way.

I think that should be a mantra everyone working with both original and derivative works should take to heart. Supposedly every story has already been told, so we may as well just tell the stories with our own spin, in our own words, and our own specific ideas that make them distinctly ours. That is how we make them unique and memorable.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Vol. 5. Necessary Sacrifice

This is a re-posting from Nov. 11th, 2017 in an effort to get all my recaps fully on tumblr. Thanks!

This week’s lunch special is pure angst with a side of bittersweet hope. Though “Unforeseen Consequences” might have been an unexpectedly funny episode, things are really heading south when you’ve got a title like “Necessary Sacrifice.”

The fandom said that things would start getting darker by Episode 5 and here we are.

We begin with Blake, continuing the strategy of cycling through a main character each week while still leaving time for Ruby. She and Sun are attempting to recruit people to help defend Haven and it’s going about as well as you’d expect. From mothers pulling their sons back indoors to faunus straight up telling them to get lost, by the end of a long afternoon neither of them have anything to show for their efforts. Despite the faunus-specific situation here, I wonder if Qrow will encounter similar problems as he tries to recruit other huntsmen and huntresses. The residents of Menagerie can’t be the only ones who want to ignore this war (or straight up believe it doesn't exist) and it would be a convenient way of ensuring that the battles continue to rest on the shoulders of the kids. Similar to The Legend of Korra, RWBY raises questions as to why children continue to do the work of adults. Like Harry Potter, the show will need to keep coming up with decent excuses.

Blake raises an important consideration though: “Not everyone is like you and me.” We’ve been given a series focused on the soldiers of this world and thus it’s easy to forget that everyone else surrounding them isn’t going to happily charge into a fight like Team RWBY is. Most people—the faunus in particular—will do everything they can do avoid getting involved. The fact that it's Blake leading this charge, "cowardly" Blake with a semblance that literally lets her run away, does a lot to show her own character growth. More than that though, we’re reminded that RWBY/RNJR aren’t even like other huntsmen and huntresses. The Fall of Beacon changed them and taught an incredibly difficult lesson: that Salem doesn’t care if you think you’re a part of this war or not. Blake says that the people of Menagerie will be affected no matter what their decision is. Later Ruby reiterates that even innocents like Penny will be killed in this battle. You’re in danger whether you fight or whether you stay on the sidelines… so you might as well take up arms and do what you can.

Sun and Blake’s conversation was, at its core, another callback to the early volumes, notably their first café conversation. It’s a mellow scene with the talk broken up with slice-of-life looks around Menagerie, highlighting the diversity among the faunus race. I would have appreciated the aesthetics and mood of this scene a whole lot more if Sun hadn’t devolved into someone I’ve come to actively dislike. Blake expresses how appreciative she is that Sun was there for her even when she didn’t want him to be and says that she wants to help her friends, “The way you helped me.”

God no. I ranted about this briefly in my last recap, but Sun’s actions should not be romanticized like this. Being there for someone means remaining open and supportive, available (to the best of your ability) for when they decide they want your help. Granted, the exception to this is situations wherein someone needs intervention for their own or another's safety, but Blake is absolutely not in that position. Part of being supportive is providing someone with the space they ask for and Sun 100% did not do this. He stalked Blake without her permission. Did not leave when she told him to. Horned in on her private family life despite numerous signs—both overt and subtle—that he was not welcome there. The fact that Blake now does want him around doesn’t excuse his earlier, pushy arrogance. And the fact that she’s thanking him for it puts a real sour taste in my mouth. It’s far too reminiscent of all the men who continually demand a woman’s attention because they know “what’s best” for her, or they’re convinced she “secretly wants it.” Sun has had no respect for Blake’s boundaries these past few months and he does not deserve to be rewarded for that egotism now.

Regardless, that’s just one uncomfortable moment in an otherwise nice scene. I laughed at Blake's speech about personification, given that I’d just taught Citizen Kane to a bunch of intro film students. Can you sum up a person’s life and personality with just one word? Blake thinks you can. Ruby is purity, Weiss is defiance, Yang is strength…and Adam, after long consideration, is spite. It’s an assessment I think most can agree with. As Blake lays out, Adam has no desire for equality or justice. He’s out to hurt humanity as much as possible, regardless of how much of that vengeance they actually deserve.

Continuing Blake and Ruby’s parallels this episode, Ruby showcases her purity by having a candid (and long overdue) conversation with Oscar. Like Jaune, Oscar seems to be doing a lot of training on his own (numerous parallels between them too—I hope they interact more) and he admits that even though it’s only been a few weeks, he feels as if he’s been working with Ozpin's cane for a lifetime, maybe more. Beyond reminding us that Oscar and Ozpin are continuing to merge, this helps situate the viewer in Volume 5’s stupidly complex timeline. In all honesty I could continue to do without this non-linearity. It’s jarring to start an episode as if only a day or two has passed (first training last episode), only to learn through offhand comments that it’s been weeks instead. RWBY isn’t the sort of show that benefits from feelings of displacement and it would be better served using something like a more traditional training montage.

Then things get heavy. The conversation is mostly small talk until Ruby exclaims that Oscar will be combat ready soon. I’m so glad people have already GIFed this moment because Ruby’s expressions here are heart-wrenching.

Ruby: “Penny...” 

No one—viewers and characters alike—were expecting that punch to the gut. To say nothing of the fact that Ruby loved and listened to Penny enough to pick up on her favorite catchphrase. This moment starts a much more intimate conversation wherein Oscar expresses, through anger and fear, what most people have been thinking for four volumes now: how the hell can Ruby be so optimistic? People have tried to kill this girl, succeeded in murdering her friends, forced her out of her home, separated her from family, and dumped her in the middle of a war. Isn’t she scared?

Well of course she is. I’ve argued from the start the Ruby is wiser than most give her credit for and we get an excellent demonstration of this here. Beyond reiterating Blake’s views from earlier—that they’re in danger whether they keep moving forward or crawl into a panicky ball—she drops the bombshell that being recklessly brave isn’t going to save anyone. In fact, it actively got Pyrrha killed. I love that the show finally acknowledged this because as brave as Pyrrha was for standing up to Cinder, that bravery was stupid. She knew she couldn’t defeat a Maiden and fighting her achieved nothing overall. The only reason Pyrrha went up to that tower was because it was the “right” thing to do… but in fact, the better thing to do would have been to hold back, to survive and live to fight another day. 

Ruby gets that. For all her niceties and optimism, she understands Pyrrha’s fatal flaw: there’s a difference between playing the hero and being a strategic member of a team. It flies in the face of everyone who claims she hasn’t grown (remember the girl who tried to take on the deathstalker alone during initiation?) and it just solidifies my feelings regarding her decision to enter Qrow’s fight with Tyrian. That was also a stupid decision based on what we know now, but the point is Ruby didn’t have all that information--she was making a strategic choice on what she thought she knew. Ruby isn’t out to sacrifice herself for the sake of sacrifice. Does she make mistakes? Of course, but she’s a lot more self-aware than most would assume at first glance. She's out to win, not just turn herself into a martyr.

Ozpin says it himself, “She really is remarkable, isn’t she?” yet when Oscar agrees in this sort of awed voice, commenting that she must have been one of the best huntresses at Beacon, Ozpin is quick to clarify that Ruby has faults just like anyone else. What makes her special is that “spark,” her ability to inspire others even in the face of extraordinary odds. It's her optimism and leadership (among other traits) that make her great--but they certainly don't make her perfect.  

This comment of Ozpin’s was so reassuring. Yes, I’m also frustrated that no one is talking about Ruby’s silver eyes (I’d have demanded an explanation months ago??) but at least we have even more confirmation that Ozpin doesn’t just view Ruby as his secret weapon. This conversation could have easily ended with him making vague references to how powerful and important Ruby is. Instead Ozpin teaches Oscar that no one can be put up on a pedestal. Say what you want about Ozpin’s archetype and supposed manipulation. I firmly believe he was telling the truth when he told James ages back that he didn’t want his kids fighting a war. It’s just too bad that they have to.

Our last scene is the one everyone was waiting for. News has reached the fox brothers of Sienna’s assassination and when they refer to her as a “necessary sacrifice” everyone breathed a sigh of relief. That is, until the Belladonnas are also labeled a “necessary sacrifice” and everyone panicked. Our new winged faunus guy might have intercepted the messenger with news of Sienna’s death, but they can’t keep it a secret from Menagerie forever. When this gets out the tide might just turn in Ghira’s favor… so the whole family, with the exception of Blake, is to be killed. And Ilia is the perfect person to carry this out.

Frankly, I don’t think she’ll do it. The show has spent too much time framing her as a sympathetic character, someone really on the fence about her loyalties, and you can see the pure shock and hesitation on Illia’s face when she hears the news. The real question though is, if she does turn to Blake’s side, will her double-status be enough to save the Belladonnas? We dodged Qrow's death last Volume. Is it time then for another casualty?

The only real silver lining here is that if they do die it’ll probably happen off screen where we can ignore it. After all, it’s only the red-haired, green-eyed characters who get the gruesome deaths lol. Still waiting to see if that's just some morbid inside joke or if we'll ever get an in-universe explanation...

One final note regarding this episode: is anyone else highly suspicious of Oscar’s backpack? It’s not as if he’s wandered far to train—Ruby comes right downstairs to grab him for dinner. Yet here he is with his stuff all packed up. Oscar leans his cane with the other weapons, cries, and then packs it up as well, donning the backpack with his most precious possession inside, something that is entirely unnecessary if you’re just walking upstairs to dinner. The fact that this scene takes place with an open wall that leads outside, the fact that we cut with Oscar still standing in the middle of the room… it makes me nervous. Maybe Ozpin has a special mission for them. Maybe Oscar (despite Ruby’s comment that he’s braver than he thinks) is planning to leave….

…or maybe they just needed something for him to do while they had a long, intimate conversation. That’s always possible too.

Until next week!

Other Details of Note

Mermaid faunus confirmed.

Winged faunus CONFIRMED.

Oscar says that the only fighting he’s done is against small Grimm that, presumably, try and attack the farm. This raises a lot of questions regarding how strong a Remnant civilian is. Can everyone fight off one or two regular Grimm? Does Oscar’s farm work give him the kind of strength he needs to, I don’t know, stab something evil with a pitchfork? I remain supremely curious about what the average, non-fighter is capable of in this world.

Both Ruby and Oscar got to cry a bit during their conversation. Kudos. Keep letting the kids cry.

I also appreciate that it was a conversation between Oscar and Ruby. Ozpin may not literally be able to get away, but at least he has the tact to hang back and pretend that the conversation is private.

Adam is... definitely "unwell." Nice choice in language though. The fox brothers want to "silence" the Belladonnas whereas Adam straight up says to "slaughter" them. He's becoming more unhinged with each passing episode.

[urlbending]

Dear Yuletide Author

Hi! This is my first Yuletide and I am super excited to participate in this proud fandom tradition and I can’t wait to read whatever you write!!

Requests for Teen Beach Movie, Blue Beetle, Sweet/Vicious, and a crack meta Nailed It! fic under the cut.

Before I go into my specific requested fandoms, here are some general likes and dislikes:

Likes: Tropes! I love AU, UA, canon-compliant you name it! I love fluff and moments of casual intimacy, but I also really enjoy plot

Favorite tropes: Fake dating, pining, mUTUAL PINING!!!!!!,undercover, roadtrips, bed sharing, locked in a room, PLATONIC SHOWERING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (my term for two people with a bad case of UST being forced to shower together, usually in an emergency situation a la this chuck scene)

DNW: Would prefer all of these to be a hard T at the max, noncon/dubcon, first/second person POV, character bashing, die for our ship, A/B/O, Mpreg, songfic (though if you made a playlist while writing i would be delighted to listen to it!!), DARK FICS, torture.

Teen Beach Movie

These two!! I love how they bring out the best in each other: Mack taught Lela feminism, and Lela taught Mack to follow her heart.

Also, their romantic chemistry is ridiculous and becomes more apparent on each viewing. That necklace??? Ugh. They make Cadet Kelly look straight.

These two really belong together, and now they can, through the power of fic! I love tropey stuff and AUs but I’m seriously down for anything. Maybe Mack goes into Lela Queen of the Beach, and they fall in love? The world is your oyster!!

(This Taylor Swift cover of Riptide Lela/Mack video is perfect and I think about it a lot.)

Specific DNWs: Noncon/dubcon, first/second person POV, Tanner and Brady bashing, A/B/O, songfic (unless it's an intentionally terrible song written for Lela, Queen of the Beach).

Blue Beetle

The mention of a teen lantern for the DC Imprint’s Young Justice Lineup reminded me of how awesome Milagro Reyes (and that entire Blue Beetle run!) was, and so I would love a story about Green Lantern Milagro, whether she is a teenager or adult.

I love the warmth of the early 00s Blue Beetle comics and that Jaime TELLS HIS PARENTS!!! AND HIS PARENTS DON’T LOCK HIM UP/FORBID HIM FROM SUPERHEROING!! It’s such a loving and sensible run! In a strange way, it almost feels like a precursor to Ms. Marvel.

I would prefer a fun outer space adventure (bonus points for Milagro having a GL mentor/victim) but if reading this gives you the sudden urge to write MILAGRO TEEN LANTERN IN HIGHSCHOOL, MAKIN’ LIGHT CONSTRUCTS TO GET THROUGH PE AND STOPPING AN EXTRATERRESTRIAL INVASION THAT IS TRYING TO CRASH HER PROM, then whatever floats your boat, dear author!

You can totally have Jaime, Brenda and Paco show up, but it’s not necessary. This is Milagro’s story :)

I treat comic book canon as a buffet so i’m down for whatever timeline/verse you wish (maybe Guy Gardner is Milagro’s mentor or Kyle Rayner is and his buddy (or boyfriend!) Connor Hawke tags along, go wild!!!)

(Also I love all the future kids from around this time, so if Milagro is part of YJ or the Titans along with Jai and Iris West and Lian Harper that’d be super rad!!)

Specific DNWs: First/second person POV, character bashing, A/B/O, Mpreg, character death, Bart/Jaime (great YJ ship, but would be out of place in a comics fic).

Nailed It!

Nailed It! is such a glorious show, that combines the feel-good of GBBO with the delicious chaos of Cutthroat Kitchen. As such, and because I loved the Old Spice Guy Yuletide meta crackfic, I would love a Nailed It! Yuletide meta crackfic.

The idea is to lovingly poke fun at common pitfalls in fic and writing fic, Yuletide fic especially, in the format of a Nailed It! episode (a million bonus points for the requisite Wes cameo/gag).

For example, imagine the challenge was a canon-compliant fic and one of the competitors panicked and wrote a 12k werewolf Mpreg roadtrip AU, and Jacques Torres reads a snippet of it aloud while Nicole Byer goes on a face journey in the background.

As such, feel free to play fast and loose with my general DNWs! Some of which are: first/second person POV, character bashing, Die for Our Ship, A/B/O, Mpreg, and songfic.

Sweet/Vicious

I am so thankful this amazing show got nominated this year!!!!

Ophelia killed a rapist for Jules within like, a day of them first meeting and then they sang Defying Gravity together, what is not to love about these two?? They each know how dark and fucked up the other can be, and they accept and love each other for it!!!

I love their banter and affection; Ophelia looks at Jules like she hung the moon, and Jules can be herself around her, and trusts Ophelia to rein her in if needed.

Anything involving these two getting/being together would make my Yuletide, but some specific suggestions would be:

1. Fake dating!!! The foundations are already there in the show, and it would make for a great s2-esque canon compliant fic with a side of delicious mutual pining

2. I think truth serum (date rape drug gone wrong?) would be a really fun trope for these two (fair warning that this can veer into dubcon terrority so be careful!)

3. Everyone thinks they’re dating (can go hand in hand with #1)

(Also a Chuck AU would be really cool!!)

Specific DNWS: First/second person POV, bashing either of their boyfriends (I will totally roll with whatever handwavy explanation you have for them breaking up, or they could just not have gotten together in the first place/existed), graphic depictions of sexual assault (references to SA happening are fine), Die for Our Ship, A/B/O, dub/noncon, and songfic.