#and to interrogate within the fandom

[leonardalphachurch]

something i’ve noticed with the grifs is that kai is consistently drawn as lighter skinned and skinnier than grif. and i think it’s worth questioning why you feel like the woman of color should be the one out of the two of them that’s closer adhering to eurocentered beauty standards

[neeeooon]

Hiiii hope you're doing well!!<3 have you seen Sabrina carpenter perform in Manchester? I saw it and it reminded me of manshine sooo here we are! Can I request reader is a singer and maybe like Sabrina's theme? Reader performed in Manshine just for her boyfriend! (Manshine boys like Nagi, reo and chigri) That's all tyy! Remember to drink water!!<3

OMG LOVE THISSS THANK YOU 🩵

when you perform in manshine

pro player bf bllk (aged up) x famous pop singer!reader. bllk players play for manshine in this

nagi seishiro

-> though your fans know you have a boyfriend, you try to keep nagi out of the spotlight as much as possible

-> you certainly aren’t embarrassed by your boyfriend, you just don’t want your fans interrogating him or buying up manshine game tickets just to get a look at pop star y/n’s famous soccer-playing boyfriend

-> “where’s manshine?” you ask your team after seeing the tour dates. “where’s what?” “manshine. my boyfriend has his first game the day before my concert in france, so can we have a show in england before that?” “…” “i’m going to his game, so we can either add a stop, or i miss a show—“ “manshine it is!”

-> to your surprise, the manshine venue was the first to sell out. you invited nagi’s entire team, but your boyfriend ignoring them from the front row with his sights set on you and you alone

-> you made your rounds all over the stage, giving love to all your fans, but you always found yourself back in nagi’s section, where he blinked up lovingly at you. when you blew him a kiss, his teammates and your fans went wild

-> when the lights went out after the show, you snuck off stage and ran to your boyfriend. though it was dark, a few fans spotted you as you grabbed nagi’s hand and pulled him past the protective barrier

-> hand in hand, you led nagi backstage and out of sight, despite your guards’ panicked shouts at you to stay where they could see you. “what did you think?!” you gasped in nagi’s arms, and he tightened his hold on you before placing a lazy kiss in your hair. “perfect. but how do you perform that long? my legs hurt from standing..”

reo mikage

-> reo is your biggest fan for sure. he goes to every one of your concerts he can, even paying full price despite you giving him free boyfriend passes. he claims it’s to “support you and your team”

-> when his season starts at the same time as your world tour, he isn’t able to attend any of your concerts and you can tell being so far away from you bothers him

-> to surprise him, you convince your management team to add manshine to your tour dates since your concert would fall a day before his first professional game

-> “why is the stadium full of y/n merch?” he asked while on facetime, and you giggled the entire time you told him about the additional venue. “i wanted to see you before your game! may my music lift your spirits, my love.” “you’re such a goof,” he teased, but you could hear the smile in his voice

-> your fans know you have a boyfriend, so when your concert finally came around and you threw a rose at reo, they absolutely lost their minds. you couldn’t hear much over the screams, but you caught a few fans praising you for picking someone so pretty and talented

-> he met you backstage after your performance and wiped the sweat from your brow with a soft towel. “you were amazing! i still can’t believe you’re here,” he said with a laugh, and you placed a glossy kiss to the back of his hand. “i told you i’d be at your first game, no matter what! it’s important to you, and i wouldn’t miss that.”

chigiri hyoma

-> chigiri has his own sub-fandom within your fandom. your fans absolutely love him and his relationship with you, and thankfully they’re quite respectful whenever you’re seen out together

-> since he’s so popular, when your tour dates are released without manshine in sight, they riot and demand for your management team to add a stop so chigiri can attend your show

-> you got him seats in the front row and were pleased to see him interacting with your fans from backstage. he seemed to have a good time, especially when you stepped on stage in your concert outfit, smiling brightly

-> your most popular song (thanks to tiktok) was a catchy song about love and boys who treat their partners right. your fans screamed every time they caught you pointing or winking in your boyfriend’s direction

-> the moment your show ended, you jumped off stage and threw yourself over the barricade to hug chigiri, who whispered multiple praises in your ear before begging you to spare your panicking bodyguards and return backstage

-> you kissed him once, ignoring the feral screams from fans, and allowed your guards to guide you backstage to change and meet chigiri so you could ride to his place together until your flight out in the morning

[theswordwizard]

the AMERICAN* FUJO* Kickstarter is now live!

introducing a new literary journal about the intersections of gender & sexuality, power, and virtual space in fandom. By the editors who brought you works like yaoi zine, yuri zine, and butchverse 1 & 2.

(cover illustration by the incredible shalida)

AMERICAN* FUJO* is Alexis theswordwizard (thats meeeee :D) & tshirt3000's forthcoming anthology on fandom culture, trans identity, and general overanalysis. Our project tries to asterisk and complicate its categories of both “American” and “Fujo” as much as possible, interrogating gender and sexuality, power of all kinds, and the virtual communities we call fandom. 

We asked our contributors questions along those lines: How has being a fan affected your gender or sexuality? How has our gender or sexuality affected how we engage in fandom? Who is a fujoshi, who wants to be one, and who doesn’t get the choice? In America-centric fan spaces, what is necessarily suppressed? How can we trouble the category and dominance of “American” from within and without? Finally, what does it mean to be in a community that’s overwhelmingly virtual, as reliant on digital social platforms as it is on fictional media, both owned by another party? And what affects or acts are uniquely enabled by these virtualized desires and sexuality? 

Our contributors range from actual self-identified American fujos to writers who are emphatically neither. They answer these questions through illustration, comics, essays, and autotheory, developing creative ways to capture fandom and its discontents. The anthology surveys a wide range of topics, from transgender fujoshism (in any direction) to race and belonging within theoretically progressive fandom. We want to make the full vibrancy of fandom as accessible as possible, and theorize both its possibilities and its limits through this anthology. We hope you’re as excited to read AMERICAN* FUJO* as we are to make it!

Support or follow our campaign on Kickstarter!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Protective Custody

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: AU: FBI AU

Warnings: Trauma response, implied violence, stalking, protective custody, PTSD themes, emotional distress

Summary: entering witness protection, guarded by agent posing as wife.

A/N: please do enjoy….

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @zizi-bee-yapping , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @iowahawkeyes22 , @kamspeaks , @tenaciousglitternerd , @jupitermoonbaby , @k1ttyluvcc , @evry1luvzzae , @liloandstitchstan

They say you never forget the smell of fear. But no one warns you about how loud it is.

The screaming. The sirens. The wet crunch of someone being tackled just a little too late. The way your own heartbeat can sound like gunfire in your ears when you’re crouched behind a dumpster, hands trembling so hard you nearly drop your phone trying to dial 911.

I never meant to be part of anything like this.

I was just trying to walk home.

Just a ten-minute shortcut through the alley I’ve taken a hundred times. Except this time… this time, someone else was waiting.

The details blur. Blood. A blade. A scream—mine, or someone else’s, I couldn’t tell. He said something to me, something I don’t remember except for the final words:

“You’re next.”

That’s when the officers found me, hunched behind the bins, barely breathing, mascara streaked like war paint down my face. Someone tossed a blanket over my shoulders. Someone else kept asking if I was hurt. All I could do was shake my head.

But the damage was already done.

That’s what brought me here.

The hum of fluorescent lights was the only thing steady in the interrogation room.

I sat hunched in the chair, legs bouncing, fingers trembling in my lap. My clothes still smelled faintly of smoke and whatever sterile detergent the police had shoved into the department’s spare sweats. My eyes were dry, but only because I’d run out of tears hours ago.

“Miss Y/L/N,” a deep male voice broke through the silence. “I’m Detective Rowe. I just need to ask a few questions about what you saw tonight.”

The moment the man stepped inside, something inside me snapped.

My breath caught. My chest tightened. The room blurred. And before I even realized it, I was screaming, kicking my chair back, stumbling into the wall behind me.

“No—no, no, please don’t—don’t let him near me! Get him away from me!”

Rowe froze, hands lifted. “Hey, hey—it’s okay. I’m not—”

“Get her someone else!” an officer called from the door. “She’s in trauma response.”

Within seconds, the door slammed open again.

And then… her.

The only woman in the building wearing a badge, with calm blue eyes that held steady like a shoreline.

“Agent Bueckers,” someone muttered, relief in their voice. “She’s the only one she’ll let in there right now.”

She didn’t hesitate.

Paige Bueckers stepped into the room, quiet and composed—but something in her expression shifted the second her eyes landed on mine. She crouched slowly beside me, hands empty, voice low and warm.

“I’m Paige,” she said gently. “I’m not here to scare you. I’m here to protect you.”

I clutched my wrist tightly, blood thundering in my ears. The fight or flight was still gripping every part of me—but somehow, she didn’t feel like a threat.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t lie.

She just looked at me with steady resolve and said:

“From this point on, you’re not alone anymore.”

The silence that followed her words was the first kind I could breathe through.

Not because the fear was gone. It wasn’t. It hung thick in the air around me, clinging to the fibers of my hoodie like soot. But Paige’s presence was different. Grounding. Like the weight on my chest had shifted just enough for air to creep in again.

“I’m going to sit,” she said calmly, gesturing to the other side of the table. “But if you want me to stay down here on the floor with you, I will.”

My throat felt raw, and my voice barely scraped out. “You can sit.”

She nodded once, deliberate and gentle, and moved to the chair across from me. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. She didn’t start pushing me for answers. She didn’t prod at my memory. She just waited.

And eventually… I spoke.

“He—he said I’m next.”

Paige’s jaw twitched just slightly. Her eyes never left mine.

“You’re not,” she said. “Because he’s not getting anywhere near you again.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to.

But even then, a small part of me wondered if that kind of promise could really be made. Especially by someone like her—badge or not. Still, she said it like she meant it.

Like she knew it.

After another beat, she stood again and offered me her hand. I hesitated, then slowly reached out and let her help me to my feet.

“There’s a room upstairs where it’s quieter,” she said. “No badges. No questions for now. Just… rest.”

They brought me to a room that didn’t feel like a police station. The overhead lights were warmer. The walls weren’t tiled or gray. There was a couch, a cot, and a small table with a water bottle waiting. I sat down numbly. Paige followed me in and leaned against the wall near the door.

“I’m guessing no one’s explained anything to you yet,” she said.

I shook my head.

“They’re still gathering evidence. The man you saw tonight—he’s not just a random criminal. He’s been on the FBI’s radar for months. Possibly years. He’s… smart. Slippery. And dangerous.”

I looked up at her. “But he knew my name.”

“That’s why you’re here,” she said. “You’ve become part of a larger case, Y/N. Whether you meant to or not. He chose you for a reason—and until we figure out why, we’re putting you under protective custody.”

I swallowed. “Witness protection?”

“Exactly.”

I curled in on myself a little. “What happens now?”

She hesitated for a second, then crossed her arms and finally told me the part that made my breath freeze all over again.

“We need to move you tonight. His last known patterns suggest he stalks before he kills. If he knows your name and where you live, he might already know your routine. That’s why…” She exhaled. “We’re assigning an agent to live with you. Someone to be with you at all times. Keep you safe.”

“Okay,” I said softly. “That sounds… smart.”

“And there’s more.”

I looked at her warily.

“Given how high-profile the case has become, we need this to be air-tight. You’ll be moved to a residential safehouse under an assumed identity. Publicly, it will look like you’ve relocated out of state… with your spouse.”

I blinked. “My… spouse?”

Paige nodded once.

“You and I,” she said, voice steady. “Are about to be wife and wife.”

I laughed. Or maybe it was more like a breath that stumbled out wrong. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” she said. “It’s the best cover. Married couples blend in better. Easier to explain two toothbrushes. Two plates. Someone being around constantly. No one suspects a couple. Especially not in the suburbs.”

“And you… volunteered?”

She looked away, just for a second. “I was the only female agent available. And… you trusted me in the room earlier. That matters.”

It did. I didn’t want it to, but it did.

“So what? We live together? Pretend we’re married and what—bake cookies and mow the lawn?”

“If we have to,” Paige said dryly. “But mostly, I’ll be guarding your life. You’ll be under 24/7 surveillance. I’ll take you to doctor’s appointments, the grocery store, everything. Until we catch this guy—or figure out what he wants from you.”

I rubbed my face, overwhelmed. “This is insane.”

She softened her tone. “I know.”

“And how long?”

“As long as it takes,” she said quietly.

I looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time. Tall. Calm. Almost unreadable, but her eyes… they held something different.

Something careful.

“I don’t even know you,” I whispered.

“You will,” she said. “And whether this is fake or not… I will keep you safe.”

By midnight, I was in a different car with tinted windows and an FBI escort heading toward a “temporary home.” A beige house with a white fence and two sets of keys: one for me, one for Agent Bueckers.

She carried my issued duffel bag inside without a word, her jaw set. I noticed her fingers twitch once when they brushed mine handing me the house key.

Fake wife. Real trauma.

And I was about to find out which blurred faster—the lie or the truth.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Angel Calling

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You've formed a friendship with Brooklyn's most fearsome mob boss. But he isn't James Barnes, White Wolf, head of the Barnes Family Crime Syndicate. No. To you, he's just Bucky and he'll be there whenever you call.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky usually doesn't step in when it comes to interrogations but this one was different. Sam and Joaquin managed to find the mole in his organization. Said mole would relay any information about the workings within the Barnes Family to Hydra, sabotaging any efforts for Bucky and his family to continue to reign over Brooklyn.

So things were tense and the mole, his former lawyer, Sitwell, was slumped in a chair, bloodied and bruised.

Bucky had forgone his blazer jacket, the sleeves of his black turtleneck rolled up to his elbows. His pinky ring with his family's sigil on not was caked in blood, a mix of Sitwells and Bucky's, but mainly Sitwells.

The older man sobs, "Please, just kill me," after Bucky lands another blow to his body.

Bucky straightens up, a devilish smirk on his face, "You think I'd make it easy for you after all the shit you pulled? After how well my family and I paid you to help cover up for us? Nah, buddy. This is your own fault. You thought Hydra could save you, but you're just scum to them," Bucky punches the man again, "My family and I were generous to you and this is how you return the favor?!" Another punch to the cheek, blood dripping onto the pavement.

A shrill ringing suddenly echoes within the warehouse and Bucky glares to his men behind him. Joaquin immediately searches the pockets of Bucky's jacket. When he pulls out the phone, he turns it to his boss, "It's her, sir."

Bucky's eyes immediately softens when he sees your name on his screen. He then turns to Sitwell's unconscious body, "Saved by the bell," he murmurs.

Sam tosses Bucky a towel and gives Joaquin a nod. Joaquin accepts the call and puts you on speaker.

"Hey, angel, you okay?"

"...don't say you told me so but-"

"Your car finally die?" Bucky answers with a smirk as he wipes as much blood from his hands as possible.

"...yes."

Bucky snorts, "Where are you?"

"Literally a few blocks away from my apartment, which is the most annoying thing. It couldn't have waited to die after I got home?! Anyway, if you and your guys can help me push the car-"

"Angel, we're not pushing your car down a few blocks. I'll pick you up and have one of my tow guys get your car."

"Bucky," you give him a warning tone.

"Angel," he gives the same energy back.

"It's fine, Bucky," you try to reason with the mob boss even though you know you probably won't win. Bucky is incredibly persuasive.

"I got it handled, angel. Let me do this. I like to take care of my friends." When he says this, Joaquin and Sam give each other a look and Bucky give them a finger. The other two men snicker.

"I'll let you pay half for the repair costs," you compromise.

Bucky scoffs, "Repairs? Nah, angel, we're getting you a new car."

You sigh, and Bucky imagines you shaking your head, "We'll discuss it when you pick me up. I'll send you my location."

"Alright. I'll see you in a bit. Just wait inside your car. Lock the doors and keep that pocket knife I gave you in hand."

"Yes, sir! See you soon. Bye!"

"Bye," Bucky replies and ends the call.

Sam makes kissing noises and Joaquin laughs. Bucky rolls his eyes at the two, "Shut the fuck up." He looks over his shoulder to the still slumped, unconscious Sitwell, "Keep an eye on him. Ask him more questions if or when he wakes. I'm gonna clean up a bit more and head out."

"Sounds good. Say hi to your angel for us!" Joaquin says as Bucky heads to the bathroom to scrub off the remaining blood from his hands.

_________________________

You jolt away when you hear a knock on your window. You see Bucky standing there with a teasing smirk. You roll your eyes and open the door, "You scared me."

"You shouldn't have fallen asleep. Something could've happened to you."

"I was tired from work and you took too long!"

"It took me twenty minutes to get here, angel."

"Well that twenty minutes was the longest twenty minutes of my life!

Bucky playfully rolls his eyes and rests his hands on his hips, "Okay, we going or not? Grab your stuff. I don't want you freezing out here any longer."

You grab your work bag and purse, and hand them to Bucky. He guides you to the passenger seat of his matte black Rolls Royce. He opens the door for you and lets you slip into the car. He hands you your stuff and then shuts the door.

He swiftly goes to the driver's side, getting into the car and starting it. He cranks the heat up all the way. He saw you shivering in your car. As the heat spreads throughout the vehicle, your shivering decreases.

You look to Bucky in appreciation, "Thanks for getting me. No one else was answering since it's late."

He quickly glances at you with a soft grin, "I'll always answer when you call, angel."

A warmth spreads through your chest and you know it's not from the car's heater.

The car ride is short since you only live down the next few blocks. Bucky parks on the street and immediately rushes to your side to help you out of the car. He grabs your bags and follows you to the front door where you punch in your code and the door swings open.

"Come up with me so I can bandage your hands," you point to his right knuckles that are covered in cuts.

"I'll be fine."

"Then at least have a drink with me and we can talk about a new car."

A grin appears on Bucky's face, "I'll humor you into thinking I'm going to let you pay for any portion of your new car."

"I'm not easily swayed, Barnes."

"Don't I know it," Bucky replies as he follows you into the building and towards the elevator. You stand beside each other as the lift reaches to the fifth floor.

In a comfortable silence, Bucky follows you to your apartment. As soon as the door opens, your cat, Willow, gives you scolding meows since it's passed her feeding time.

"I know, honey. I know, I'm sorry!" you rush to grab her food and scoop it into her feeding bowl. She happily scarfs down her food as Bucky bends down, giving soft pets to your cat.

"She's so cute."

"She's a menace, but I love her," you say as you head to the kitchen, "Beer or whiskey?"

"Beer, please!"

You grab a bottle from the fridge and fill a glass of water for yourself. You hand Bucky the bottle as he plops onto your couch.

"So, for the car, I don't need anything fancy or super expensive. Literally just a normal car that runs, has good mileage, and doesn't require a shit ton of gas."

Bucky chuckles as he opens the beer bottle with his metal prosthetic, "I'll take you to a few dealerships tomorrow. You don't work on Thursdays, right?"

You look at him in surprise, "Yeah...you remember my schedule?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, "Just in case," he mumbles, sipping from his beer.

"Anyway, yeah, I think it's best you come with me to the dealership anyway. Because sales people will try to get one over me because I'm a woman," you roll your eyes in annoyance.

"Well, all the local places know me so they'll know not to give you a shit deal."

"Sweet," you say in excitement.

Willow, done with her meal, hops onto the couch and onto Bucky's lap. She sniffs him and looks up at him expectantly, giving him a meow.

"She wants you to pet her," you translate for him.

He chuckles, "Well how can I say no to an adorable face like that?" he says, scratching Willow behind the ear, which she loves. She leans into his touch and it melts Bucky's heart.

You snicker, "If only your friends could see you now."

"If you tell any of them this, I will deny everything."

You laugh, "Don't want everyone to know what an absolute softie you are. Bucky?"

"I'm only like this when it comes to you, angel," he says.

"Hmm," is all you respond with. You turn away from Bucky and the air shifts.

Bucky gently picks up Willow up and places her on the floor. He turns his body towards you, "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"You're so confusing, Bucky."

"Huh?"

"Or maybe I'm just stupid. Or both. I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

You let out a deep breath and turn your body to face him, "One moment, I think you're flirting with me and it seems like you like me. But then the next, you keep mentioning how we're friends and you like to treat your friends a certain a way. I just-I dunno. It's hard to process how I'm feeling with how your actions and your words don't match up."

It's true. Bucky has been holding himself back. He does like you. He really does, but he's also scared. You're a civilian, a completely normal person. Whereas he was born and raised in a prominent crime family. He leads a dangerous life and he's scared to get you involved in his shit. But he also loves spending time with you and talking to you, it makes him feel normal.

Bucky runs his fingers through his shoulder length dark brown hair, "You're right. I haven't been very clear on where I stand in this...thing between us. The truth is...I like you. A whole lot, angel. I didn't expect for things to go this way. I didn't expect you to stick around after finding out who I really was, but it's nice being with you. In my crazy hectic world, everything is so loud and busy. But when you, I feel peace and there's silence.

"Truth is, angel, I've fallen for you. I just don't want you to get caught up in my shit. But I also can't seem to stay away from you."

You scoot closer to him, placing your hand on top of his metal one, "I really like you too, Bucky. And I understand where you're coming from. I'll admit that what you do is scary to me, but I also trust you enough to keep me safe."

"So...do you wanna try this out?"

You nod, "Yeah. I do."

"Great," he says breathlessly, eyes darting to your lips, "Can I-"

"Please," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.

_________________________

Bucky holds a gun to the man's head, a deadpan expression on his face as the man begs for his life.

"I swear, it was only the one time! I-" his words get cut off as Bucky's phone rings. Bucky looks over his shoulder to see Sam holding up his phone. A picture of you and "My Angel" on the screen. A grin breaks out onto Bucky's face.

He turns to the man, "Enough of this," he pulls the trigger, the man falling back onto the pavement with a bullet in his head.

Bucky walks over to Sam, trading the gun for his phone, "Hello, my beautiful angel."

You giggle, "Hey, Big Man. Just making sure you're coming over for dinner right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be coming over in an hour and I can help you cook."

"You don't have to help, Bucky."

"I want to."

"Softie."

"Only for you," he replies with a soft grin.

"Alright. I'm gonna start prepping. Say hi to the guys for me. Bye!"

"Will do. See you soon. Bye!"

When Bucky ends the call, he points a finger at Sam and Joaquin, "Not a word!"

The two men laugh as Bucky walks away. He's ready to spend the rest of his night with you, his angel.

[mikansei]

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some weird guy who wears a statue on his head, who was kind of a dick to us, but then we went on a little entomological field trip where he was oddly encouraging. surprisingly nice to us afterward for all that he literally interrogated us first. but herta runs around as a doll and we're plenty weird ourselves, so dr. ratio is whatever, i guess. we probably think of him as "that weirdo who was on the herta space station once," which is an association i'm sure he'd hate - but hey, at least we don't call him "scholar king."

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some flashy IPC guy because we accidentally held him up in line at the hotel check-in, himeko tried to negotiate and it turns out he's a professional cutthroat negotiator, but it all worked out and he gave us his fancy room. he also loomed over us with freaky glowing eyes and maybe threatened us, but it was kinda vague and it's not like he really hurt us. well... until he did. the trailblazer gets the opportunity to be verbally sore about that, but the fight didn't really feel like cocolia, like phantylia; like aventurine had gone mad and wanted to take over and/or destroy the world. his grandstanding didn't make any sense to us at the time, though, and fighting him sucked ass. but we lived and - as we found out eventually - so did he.

then the trailblazer boards the radiant feldspar, and we see aventurine's hologram talking with ...boothill? okay. who explicitly says they're working out some kind of shady underhanded deal to find oswaldo schneider which, subtlety thy name is not boothill, but that's none of our business i guess. but aventurine's there(-ish) and alive and not cackling mad, which is an improvement.

then we go into the next room over and see that herta space station weirdo, dr. ratio.

huh???

and the first thing he says to us is "no wonder that gambler likes you so much."

huh???????

everything about this is news to the trailblazer. since when is dr. ratio not only on penacony, but in the dreamscape, aboard the exclusive invitation-only dream cruise ship? since when does he not only know of aventurine, but was apparently on this mission with him? since when does aventurine like us??? we just got done mutually trying to kill each other! his hologram didn't seem sore about it, which is great for us, but doesn't exactly translate into "like!"

why are we hearing this from him and not aventurine? why does he know aventurine's thoughts on us in the first place?

dr. ratio really just shows up, yaps about aventurine unprompted, recommends us reading material, complains about the crowd and then is like "k i'm done here. ur dismissed."

the trailblazer had bigger things to think about but i, the player, do not. the fandom at large may feel like 2.3 fell flat, but the fall of the roman empire is still within the wheelhouse of my roman empire. i never left the radiant feldspar. i am still aboard this fucking ship.

[borkthemork]

I know that the fandom jokes a lot about how much Togami and Kirigiri order Naegi around to explain the clues in the trials, but I absolutely love the way they utilized this during the 4th Trial.

Specifically, in how Kirigiri is able to pack so much humiliation towards Togami without even breaking a sweat.

Togami throughout the game, especially in the Fourth Chapter, has been continuously downplaying the capabilities, lives, and agency of his fellow classmates. He is elitist, he was born into a family where if you don't bite and claw to survive, then you won't win, and believes he got to where he is through sheer cunning, willpower, and cold rationality. The idea of cooperating with the other students was beneath him. The idea of seeing people such as Asahina and Naegi as equals disgusted him due to his perceived differences in their class, capabilities, status, and levels of intellect.

In Trial 2, specifically, we see him attempt to one-up the others regarding being able to showcase how powerful and assured he is as an influential player within the Killing Game. He even used Naegi as a pawn to get him on the trail of his fabricated crime scene, just to see how people respond and to make the game less "predictable" while keeping control on the situation. However...

In that same trial, we see that the moment Naegi was able to uncover something Togami himself couldn't catch, his resolve wavers. He is humiliated, angry at the idea of some commoner, who couldn't even read 11037 as an upside down 'LEON' at the first trial, was able to outsmart him and put them on a new, unexpected path of inquiry all together. We can see that this gets to him after the trial is complete, showcasing how even if externally he looks calm and assured, being put off guard cuts him deep within his pride.

Being outsmarted, taken by surprise, or not given power over a situation frustrates him, and the seeds of that get planted during Chapter Four through multiple characters such as Kirigiri, Asahina, and Naegi.

Keep in mind that during this chapter a few key points happen that set the stage for what's to come. I am talking about Kirigiri's critical comments towards him before the Class Trial, and that Asahina was able to slap and threaten him.

These series of events do four things:

One, Asahina's actions hardened his viewpoint on Asahina as emotionally reckless and stupid, someone who he will underestimate in the later parts of the chapter.

Two, this outburst makes him double down on the idea of emotion as inferior and childish.

Three, Kirigiri's warnings make him believe he can elude betrayal, that he only has to worry about the ones who are already suspicious to him.

Four, due to being humiliated still by Asahina's surprise slap on him, he wants to regain his composure and status again amidst the cast as someone unflappable.

To me, the last point is why Togami himself went to great lengths of drinking most of the poison bottle in front of everyone. It's a way to show how untouchable and smart he is as a player, that he can surprise the others once more and remain unscathed at the very end from thinking many steps ahead of them.

However, this is where Kirigiri's words and actions click into place with humiliating the crap out of him.

When Asahina is interrogated to be lying, Togami starts to lose his resolve. He fell for Asahina's downplaying of her own intelligence and how she made obvious tracks because he believed she didn't have the capabilities to make a cleaner crime scene, and never thought deeply on why personally she would commit murder on her best friend.

He has honed in so much on the idea of killed or be killed, that the obvious contradictions went right under his nose. It didn't help that Naegi had to point this out to him afterwards.

Enter Kirigiri.

Now that Togami has lost his footing with Asahina's reveal, she then tells him that there is new evidence, surprising him once again by adding another unpredictable factor to the trial.

Stacking on to that, she rubs in that he was the one who gave it to her, and that he was too busy acting like a smartass with the bottle that he didn't inspect the evidence closer in the first place.

Since Togami does have some respect for Kirigiri in being capable of deduction and yet sees himself still as one of the best within the group, Kirigiri hones in on this. She adds how she's "amazed" that someone like him would overlook this, adding in a feeling of his intellect and capabilities being looked down upon in disappointment by a semi-peer.

Togami notes this indirectly in his dialogue, but during this scene, Kirigiri is intentionally omitting the answer to the clue also.

Compared to how she omits info from Naegi in past trials due to wanting to observe his capabilities, Kirigiri wants Togami to get desperate in this moment. He is already feeling out of the loop with multiple factors outside of his control, and not being able to think of a proper conclusion on his own due to being put off guard.

Contrasted with his past lectures—about how you can't trust people, and that you have to do things on your own—she now has Togami begging other people for an answer on the situation. To the point where his anger and frustration makes his requests sound childish, as if he's the impatient one compared to everyone else in the room.

To add even more insult to injury, Kirigiri then diverts the answer to Naegi. The person who Togami has mocked multiple times for being a commoner, someone who will never be equal to him, and who he sees as dense as a rock despite acknowledging his past deduction skills.

By doing this Kirigiri puts Togami into a corner where if he truly wants the answer to his question then he has to beg someone who is the complete opposite of everything he defines as a successful person, and you can see Togami processing this for a few seconds before relenting angrily.

In previous sessions, Togami was able to have a say in the trials and even be a massive influence in how the line of inquiries followed through; the moment Kirigiri put Naegi on the spot and gave him the reins, the tide has changed and is now in their hands.

Trial 4 has Naegi and Kirigiri carrying the deduction phase in solving Asahina's betrayal and Oogami's suicide, and doing an amazing job tying up a lot of loose ends in rapid succession much to Togami's bewilderment.

He is completely falling behind, and this makes him even more humiliated and angry as he loses his cool during the second half of the trial.

He yells about Kirigiri giving him loaded questions, about how unfair it is that she knows more than him, basically watching this man go into a tantrum right in front of everyone he's previously mocked for being emotional. It is just an avalanche of continuous pathos triggering the same humiliated feelings with each second he reacts to them.

He has to listen in shock as Asahina is found out to have been the one who betrayed them, and that suicide was the only viable way for the crime scene to occur. Asahina and Oogami took him by surprise, and if it weren't for Naegi and Kirigiri to disprove the former's claims, they all would've been executed. Togami fell for all of it, and gets hit once more with the feeling of being wrong, of losing to people he never expected to best him while Kirigiri continues to refute him without hesitation.

He's then placed in a position where Kirigiri and Naegi have beaten down his arguments well enough for him to dejectedly apologize after yelling, which is huge for someone like him.

The best part about this is that the moment he does this, Togami takes a full backseat to the entire debate as Naegi and Kirigiri interrogate Asahina and reveal the truth over Sakura's death.

He interjects a few times, and he only jumps back into the conversation completely at the finale—all to ask Makoto how he was able to beat him.

And in the end, Kirigiri responds (in frustration, which is hilarious) by telling him the exact reasons why he never was able to solve this case. She didn't even have to go on a huge tangent, all she needed to do is hit him right where it hurts: his pride, his black and white viewpoints, his inability to win, and that he is just as vulnerable and volatile as the rest of the people he looks down upon.

These lines themselves wouldn't have gotten to him before. We have seen how resistant Togami was when the group tried to argue with him over his behaviors, but now, each sentence hits him like a stack of bricks due to being dragged through the mud multiple times all to prove Kirigiri's point that she was right, and that he was wrong.

There is so much humiliation just packed into every single back-and-forth of the trial, you can't help but wince (and cheer) at how effective it was in getting Togami to back down completely.

[rotthepoet]

Fight - M.Riddle

Summary: Mattheo Riddle breaks your nose, and he kinda feels bad about it.

~2.3k words

Content: Modern Au, Characters are 18+, No use of Y/N, No determined house, Mattheo doesn't like using his words, descriptions of fighting and blood, maybe ooc everyone? dunno this fandom is weird i love it, mention of drug use(tobacco, weed, alcohol), Mattheo's love language is acts of service and gift giving fight me, rushed ending sorry chat i'm getting back into writing again, not proof read

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Violence isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. Not for any reason, but I suppose you really don’t need a reason to hate something so savage. I don’t like action movies, the idea of contact sports and martial arts in the muggle world is barbaric to me, and even watching beaters and chasers hurdle towards each other on the Quidditch pitch makes me cringe.

Hogwarts is full of many fights. They're unavoidable, I suppose. Occasionally, the more disorderly underclassmen will break out into a wizard’s duel. Bright flashes of light and the screams of ignorantly casted hexes will draw onlookers nearby, blocking up the already crowded hallways with a ring of students encouraging their peers with reckless abandon. In fact, there were rumors of a secret dueling club that had been organizing these fights for centuries.

However, there are only so many different hexes and jinxes to terrorize and entertain your classmates with before things become… stale. This conundrum, along with unstable hormones, had sparked a new infatuation among Hogwarts upperclassmen.

Fist-fights.

The idea was childish. Any problem imaginable could be sorted with words, or even wands, and yet both boys and girls fought nail, tooth, and, claw just for an ounce of respect. Maybe an ounce of attention. If I remember right, even an ounce of weed (This was the day many students had to undergo a veritaserum-induced interrogation.) . It was foolish, and oftentimes fights were shut down by the hands of professors within moments.

That did not seem to be the case today.

As if by some miracle, or in my case a misfortune, professors seemed to be distinctly absent from the hallways in which Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott, seventh year Slytherin’s and star quidditch players, beat each other into a pulp.

And by my luck, I was stuck at the barricade of sorts, facing the fight without obstruction as my peers tried to press closer, obscuring my exit from the situation.

The two of them screamed about who-knows-what, and they flashed between the floor and standing upright. The two of them sauntered and stumbled around, each collision of fist to skin sent my stomach reeling with nausea.

Theodore’s lip was busted and an uncomfortable looking bruise was already forming around his eye. He shrugged-more-so ripped- his robe off and swung wildly at Mattheo, making him back up.

Now, Mattheo Riddle is a tall man. A solid 6 foot if not taller, muscular build after a few years on the Slytherin’s Quidditch team. He was not someone you would want to stand up against, or really be near in general.

The crowd collectively gasped and hollered as he stumbled backwards, right towards me. Against the thick wall of students, I had no where to go. He swung his arm back, fast and powerful.

The sickening crack was all I could hear. Then all I could see were his angry eyes widening in realization that he had hit something other than Theodore. His head swiveled around, and I almost thought he would apologize before a blow landed in his gut, leaving him to curl over and writhe in pain on his knees. At this point, I believe Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had forced themselves into the ring to separate Riddle and Nott.

I don’t remember falling backwards, but I was in the strong hands of another classmate while a few people asked if I was okay. I tasted blood on my lips. Tears slipped down my cheeks heavy and hot, and blood dripped profusely from my nose.

It was Pansy Parkinson that escorted be to the hospital wing.

Pansy was a pretty girl, black hair, silver jewelry, and eyes sharper than a new blade. She wasn’t the most approachable girl I had ever spoken to, but after an assigned pairing in potions, we had become quite the duo. She rambled on about how she’ll have ‘Matt’ apologize, and how ‘the boys’ were going to be in so much shit.

My nose was broken, fixed with a simple, “Episkey!”, from Madam Promfrey, and I was sent on my merry way with Pansy at my side. She, and I do mean this fondly, droned on about how sorry she was( “Pansy, I said it was fine.” “No, it isn’t fine! Those nitwits could have done far worse-“) and how she’ll have Riddle pay me back.

“Really, he is a nice guy!”

“So I’ve heard…” I mumbled, a migraine settling in, and I had half a mind to turn back around to the hospital wing and demand enough tonic to let me sleep for a week.

“Why don’t I just take you back to my dorm and we can watch a movie, eat a few snacks. I still have a ton a chocolate frogs left from our last sleepover.”

I sighed, and gave a small smile. I didn’t really feel like it, but if it would make dear Pansy stop worrying, I folded.

The Slytherin dungeons were oddly warm considering being so far underneath the Black Lake. The stained glass casted rays of green and blue lighting among the common room, and fish swam past the great windows. The common room was nearly empty save for a few students among the chairs reading, a couple playing wizard chess, and a small group of familiar faces occupying the couches in front of the fire place.

The first to turn around was Blaise Zabini, and he greeted Pansy with a smile, then turned to me with a small wince. “How're you feeling?”

“Better now. Thank you.”

Zabini nodded, turning his gaze back to the ever incessantly whining Malfoy. Pansy rolled her eyes, and I could feel the ‘he turned me into a lesbian,’ building in her chest. We retired to her room before her own cat-fight could break out

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It was around 2 am when we emerged from Pansy’s room again, both hungry and unable to sleep even after indulging in far too many sweets. She took my hand, racing me down flights of stairs until we stumbled back into the common room with a small giggle that abruptly stopped at the sight of the same group of boys on the couch. Two new heads had joined the count, and simultaneously each turned to face the two of us.

I locked eyes with Mattheo Riddle, and he looked away.

Fucking dick.

“What was it this time?” Pansy broke the silence, dragging me to the couch now. She sat at the end, myself in the middle, and coincidentally, Riddle on my other side.

Theodore Nott, who sat across the center table from Riddle, nursing his swollen eye with an ice bag answered. “He broke my pipe.”

Mattheo Riddle rolled his eyes, “I said I'm sorry and I'll pay you back." He snapped, and Nott yelled something about that being his favorite glass.

Pansy tsk’d them, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the table, plucking herself an apple and offering me an orange. My nails, cut short due to nervous picking and biting, dug at the thick skin. I lifted my head only when I heard my name being spoken, and I met Nott’s gaze.

“How’s your nose?”

I swore he made a snide glance at Riddle, who visibly tense and turned farther away from me.

“It’s fine. Easily fixed.” I turned my gaze back to the orange, biting my cheek in frustration as my nail continued to slip from the peel. A blush rose to my cheeks in frustration.

“So it was broken. You need to watch where you’re swinging those damn elbows, Riddle.”

Riddle gave Nott the finger, and the company around us laughed. I laughed along, but sighed as I ultimately gave up trying to peel the orange. Pathetic. At least no one had seemed to notice or care.

“No one would have gotten hurt had you not been a little bitch.” Snapped Mattheo to Theodore, and his bruised hand grabbed the orange from my own so quickly I almost didn’t realize it had happened.

His fingers worked swiftly, removing the skin of the fruit before he put it back in my hands. He stood up, “I’m sick of your shit, going to bed. Don’t make too much noise when you come up.” He mumbled, and Theodore rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist, princess.”

I stared down at the peeled orange in my hand. Slowly, I pulled a carpel from the rest of the fruit.

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Things had seemed to turn around for me, lately.

Maybe it was a lucky streak, but the bench I frequented in my free time to read had been consistently available despite being a popular spot most days. Along with that, My favorite seat in History of Magic, which had been unrightfully stolen by a group of friends, had been returned to me (It was my favorite because it's located on the far back wall, perfect for an unseen nap). I even walked into potions and found a little note of all the questions that were to be asked during the class, and all of their answers.

Pansy laid her head in my lap, whining about a girl she was pining for, while I flipped through pages of an uninteresting book on potion ingredients. She sat up slowly, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. "It's the weekend, what are we doing here? Lets go for a walk." she urged, and I grabbed my bag and followed. We walked through hallways mindlessly, chatting about the most recent rumors.

There was a yell from down the hall as we turned a corner, and before either of us could look, a body came hurdling into mine. I fell to the ground, hard enough that the air was knocked from my lungs. I gasped desperately, tears rushing to my eyes at the sudden pain of hard stone on my back, and a massive body on top of me.

It pushed itself up onto its hands, hovering over me.

I looked Mattheo Riddle square in the eye, and I could see the color drain from his face.

"Well? Get off of her!" I heard Pansy shriek, and once he had moved, Pansy helped me off the ground. I looked up at her, smiling in thanks, before I met Mattheo Riddle's gaze again. He stared at me for a moment longer, opening his mouth to say something. He shut it again, and turned away. Zabini raced around the corner, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

"You beat her up again?"

The look Mattheo gave Blaise sent a chill down my spine.

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The next day, Pansy and I found a box of chocolates outside of my dorm.

"Someone has a secret admirer!" She chimed in a sing-song voice.

I blushed a little bit at the notion. It was nice to think, but I insisted it was left at the wrong door and we should leave it. After much convincing, Pansy folded.

"I'm sure it's meant for you. You're probably hurting someone's feelings," She sighed.

"Then they should have left a note."

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It was frigid outside, the wind nipping at my nose, and I pulled my scarf further over my face. The courtyard was empty, most everyone opting to hide away in the warmth of their common rooms, and I started to feel like a fool for daring to come outside. At least it was quiet. I collected my bag, sliding my books into their place when the crunch of snow behind me sent be jumping in surprise.

I whipped my head around and audibly gasped when I met dark brown eyes.

"Do you not like chocolate?"

The question took me off guard, and I obviously took too long to answer when Mattheo started talking again.

"It's fine if you don't. I didn't really know what you would have liked," Mattheo rubbed his hands together, suddenly looking anywhere but at me. He looked nervous. Was Mattheo Riddle nervous?

"Just… It was an…" he stumbled over his words, scratching at his palm. "Y'know… Merlin, will you just say something?" he snapped, tugging on his scarf.

I couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so.. small.

"You got me chocolate?"

"Did… you not get it? I left it outside of your door."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Mattheo Riddle had gotten me chocolates. Why? "I didn't think they were for me."

"Why wouldn't they have been?"

"I thought someone had just left them at the wrong door."

Mattheo looked appalled at the very notion. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep, frustrated breath. "Why would I have left chocolates outside of anyone else's door?"

"You didn't leave a note. I didn't know who they were for, or what they were for, or if they were poisoned!"

Mattheo groaned, mumbling something about Zabini lying when he said girls were clever, "Well they were for you! To… apologize! For breaking your nose, and then knocking you over, and what I was doing before just didn't seem like enough!"

My mouth felt dry, and I shook my head. "What you were doing before? You could have just said sorry!"

Mattheo sighed, "The.. the seats in class- I had detention for weeks because I knew you liked napping in history of magic, and you were struggling in potions- and.. Really I deserve a 'thank you'!"

"Well then, Thank you."

A blush crept up to Matheo's cheeks, though I'm sure it was just the cold getting to him.

"I'm sorry."

I smiled, reaching to grab my bag off of the bench. "I forgive you."

Mattheo grabbed the bag before I could, and I looked up at him in confusion as he slung it over his shoulder. 'I'll carry it for you," Is all he mumbled while pulling his scarf tighter around his red face.

[hrizantemy]

The Weaponization of “Interpretation” in the ACOTAR Fandom

One of the most frustrating aspects of the ACOTAR fandom isn’t just the toxic dynamics within the books—it’s how a portion of readers respond to critique, especially when it comes to uncomfortable truths about race, power, gender, and narrative bias. There’s a particular attitude that gets thrown around whenever someone dares to challenge the dominant reading of the story, and it’s essentially this: “I can read it however I want, and if you don’t like it, just ignore it.”

On the surface, it sounds harmless. Everyone should be able to interpret art, right? Isn’t that what stories are for?

Yes—and no. Because this attitude isn’t really about interpretation. It’s about avoiding accountability for the biases and implications embedded in those interpretations. It’s used not to invite dialogue, but to shut it down.

What makes it worse is that this behavior often comes from readers who are the most vocal in defending the canon characters—especially Rhysand, and the Inner Circle—as infallible, morally perfect, and beyond critique. These are the same people who masculinize Emerie, demonize Nesta, infantilize Feyre, and ignore the colonialist, classist, and misogynistic structures in Prythian, all while claiming they’re just “having fun” with the story. But the moment someone points out that their interpretation upholds harmful tropes or flattens characters of color, they double down, insisting that fiction is off-limits to criticism.

What they’re really saying is: “I don’t want to think about what my interpretation says about me or the world I live in.”

And look—no one’s interpretation is neutral. Every reader brings their worldview to a text. That’s normal. But when people aggressively defend readings that erase marginalized characters, glorify abusive power structures, or uphold racist and sexist tropes—and then cry censorship when they’re called out for it—that’s not just annoying. It’s dangerous.

Because stories shape culture. Stories inform our understanding of love, power, justice, and identity. And when a fandom refuses to reckon with the uglier parts of those stories—when it insists that any discomfort is “just your opinion”—what it’s really doing is creating a space where critical thinking is punished and harmful ideas are celebrated.

You are allowed to interpret a story in whatever way you want. But once you share that interpretation publicly—especially in a fandom space—you don’t get to act shocked when people respond. You don’t get to cry “bullying” when someone says, “Hey, that reading is actually kind of racist/sexist/classist.” You’re participating in a conversation, whether you like it or not.

This fandom has a habit of hiding behind the idea of “personal interpretation” to excuse the dehumanization of certain characters (Lucien, Nesta, Emerie, Eris), while worshipping others (Rhys, Feyre, Azriel) with a level of aggression that borders on propaganda. And when you question that narrative? Suddenly you’re “too serious,” “toxic,” or “just hating for no reason.”

But it is serious. Because the characters people uplift, the ones they rewrite, the ones they silence or erase or demonize—it all reveals something. And if you’re not willing to examine that? You’re not interpreting the book. You’re reinforcing your own biases and using the story as a shield.

So no—it’s not just fiction. And it’s not just an interpretation.

It’s a choice. And we’re allowed to interrogate the ones you make.

And let me be clear: this is not me saying only I get to judge. You’re absolutely allowed to question why I like Nesta, why I don’t vibe with Cassian, why I’m critical of Morrigan’s flat characterization. Ask me. I will answer. I have answered. I’m not afraid of critique. I welcome it—because that’s what makes fandom richer.

But what I won’t do is accept the idea that “critique = hate” and “neutrality = attack.” If you can write endless metas about how Rhys is secretly the most benevolent ruler in Prythian while overseeing Illyria’s mutilation camps, I can write one about how Nesta’s anger is valid, or how Eris might be a victim of his own environment. That’s not me overstepping. That’s engaging.

You’re allowed to read how you want. But I’m allowed to ask why. And if that question threatens your enjoyment of the story? Maybe the issue isn’t me. Maybe it’s the narrative you’ve built to protect your favorite characters from accountability.

[utilitycaster]

can you explain what you mesn by monkey ladder in reference to the CR fandom? as someone from C1 i would probably be able to give you the insight you asked for in your tags but im unsure of the angle you are coming from.

Oh yeah, it describes a phenomenon I've repeatedly seen in all aspects of my life but I wasn't aware there was an idiom for it. Basically, it describes how communities/institutions continue following patterns of behavior even when said behaviors are in response to a no-longer relevant problem and even when the people who originated said behaviors and remember the original reason are gone.

So: imagine an experiment with five monkeys, a ladder, and bananas on top of the ladder. Whenever a monkey goes for the ladder to reach the bananas, a researcher sprays all the monkeys with ice water. After enough attempts, the monkeys, understandably, begin attacking any one of them that reaches for the ladder in order to avoid this punishment.

The researchers then swap out one of the monkeys for a new monkey. When the new monkey reaches for the ladder, the other monkeys attack them and prevent them from reaching it.

They then swap out another monkey, and when the second new monkey reaches for the ladder, not only do the other monkeys attack them - the first "new" monkey joins in. And so on. Eventually, you can reach a point where all five monkeys in the room have never even been sprayed with ice water. They don't know why they are attacking people who reach for the ladder other than that they were attacked for reaching for the ladder. And here's the kicker: the researchers haven't sprayed anyone in ages, and actually, they've turned off the water, and if someone reached for the ladder, they'd be fine. But they won't.

So it's about groups enforcing behaviors that arose in response to something specific that is no longer present, even after the group no longer recalls, necessarily, why it was present.

Anyway: as someone with the specific experience of watching campaign 1 and early campaign 2 concurrently, having started with Campaign 2, ie, joined the fandom in Campaign 2 and have been here ever since, the following viewpoints are all imo "monkey-ladder" problems: people carrying forward stereotypes/fandom behaviors that I think originated in Campaign 1 but which many new fans never actually experienced:

specifically the one I mentioned in my previous post - the idea that Sam and Travis make stupid joke characters and aren't taking this seriously. (This sometimes splits into Sam Makes Dumb Joke Characters And Travis Is Himself A Stupid Person. The latter has fortunately abated but it was still alive and kicking as late as early C3)

The idea that Marisha and Laura; or Taliesin and Liam, make characters with exceptional romantic chemistry with each other. (They didn't have this in C1 either; while chemistry is obviously a subjective metric I find these specifically two of the weakest cases of cast romantic chemistry and definitely the two weakest of same gender cast romantic chemistry but they were held up as the only viable PC/PC queer romances given that Ashley was often absent, Grog wasn't interested, and people wrote off Scanlan as a dumb joke and Tary came around after Percy and Vex were already together)

Any criticism of Marisha is Forbidden Forever due to the harassment she received in C1 (we got monkeys who joined the fandom mid-C3 beating up people who were like I'm Not Vibing With Laudna who had been staunch Keyleth defenders during the actual run of C1, for example)

I'm sure there's others that aren't coming to mind but this is a good starting point: basically, it's people who weren't in the fandom in C1 and might not even have seen Campaign 1 carrying over opinions that really only made sense in Campaign 1 and honestly weren't even good then.

For a fun interrogation of this (carryover of an opinion/behavior with no other reason than This Is What I Was Told When I Joined) within the context of an actual play, see Iga Lisowski in The Unsleeping City 2.

[theswordwizard]

Five days left in AMERICAN* FUJO* campaign!

The editors who brought you works like yaoi zine, yuri zine, and butchverse 1 & 2 are excited to share their forthcoming anthology on fandom culture, trans identity, and general overanalysis.

Our project tries to asterisk and complicate its categories of both “American” and “Fujo” as much as possible, interrogating gender and sexuality, power of all kinds, and the virtual communities we call fandom. Our contributors range from actual self-identified American fujos to writers who are emphatically neither. They answer these questions through illustration, comics, essays, and autotheory, developing creative ways to capture fandom and its discontents. The anthology surveys a wide range of topics, from transgender fujoshism (in any direction) to race and belonging within theoretically progressive fandom. We want to make the full vibrancy of fandom as accessible as possible, and theorize both its possibilities and its limits through this anthology.

Since we've hit our $7k stretch goal, we're accepting applications with comic pitches until March 31st, 11:59 pm PST.

[fuckyeahkasumisty]

It's actually already been happening for years within their groups - everyone is constantly hyper-vigilant about the behaviors of others, gets interrogated for things as small as wording something clumsily, openly ostracized and ridiculed until they beg to be forgiven and be cast away and isolated from their friend groups anyway

It has also been happening for years, people are deleting their accounts, locking, deleting posts, "taking breaks" because they cannot take the constant stress of being in a panopticon online 24/7, fandoms are becoming deserted and openly hostile, social medias becoming duties instead of third places you come to decompress after school or work

And two sets of good tags for the closure

[nekropsii]

i know this was like half a year ago but YOU. YOU UNDERSTAND SOLDAVEKAT. shit, that chart wasnt even about davekat but you understood that better than 99% of people. karkat is defined as Karkat and that is the only correct way to do that. thank you for this image that i will be sending people to explain soldavekat from this point onwards.

Thanks! I'm glad you've found it useful.

I'm a vocal major hater about fanon!DaveKat, but I'm actually really into DaveKat as it exists in Homestuck proper. The SolDaveKat web is true to me still, and it's imperative that it's not a super public relationship.

Surveillance, Voyeurism, a lack of Privacy, the desire for Quiet and Secrecy - these are all major themes in Dave and Karkat's characters, I really cannot imagine their relationship being a public spectacle by their own will, consensually. Sollux similarly is oft given the trait "Tired of Being Asked (Personal) Questions", and I imagine his Love Life would slot cleanly into the list of things he doesn't want to get interrogated about. Shipping Culture is more than just a thorn in my side, but the way it's part of the Metaphorical Panopticon - especially with DaveKat - is simultaneously Frustrating, Nauseating, and Fascinating. People get Big Mad when you point it out, though. Lol.

Even with the Panopticon status of it all, it's still, like... Cave Shadows. Lot of people are working with Cheap Cardboard Facsimiles only in Design - the Resemblance is entirely Superficial, everything beneath the aesthetics is nothing like the characters they're supposedly portraying. There's a love of the camera, an announcement to the world, and an all-too-high level of Enthusiasm to be "out" to the public. It's all Cookie-Cutter Shipping Nonsense - no part of it is genuine, no part of it is an attempt to portray the characters as they exist within the actual Source Material. It's Sugar and Spice, Fluff on Fluff on Fluff, and all of shitty little Doppelgängers with no personality aside from "Gay" and "Has A Boyfriend". The bile remains, however. One part because of the disregard of the Themes of the story, and one part because it all just really smacks of Homophobia, doesn't it?

Actually "Getting It" as far as Pairings go is wonderful, it makes things legitimately fun and interesting - however, you will spoil yourself on basically everything the Fandom has to offer you.

Have fun in your SolDaveKat'ing - it's a wonderful dynamic, and being in Fandoms is dark. Go forth, my soldier. o7

[accirax]

Meta Voting, Milgram, and Why You Should Inno Sweep Trial 3

One thing that I've always admired about MILGRAM is how clearly and frequently the series reiterates that you can vote whichever way you like for whatever reasons you like. A genuine judgment of the crime, an attempt to reach a "happy ending," what most benefits your fave, a ritual to get concert tickets-- as Jackalope says, all of these are equally valid ways to participate in the MILGRAM project. The anything-goes policy makes it really easy to introduce the series to new people, as you can assure them that there's no "wrong" way to vote. Everything is open for discussion, as the project itself refuses to railroad you towards one conclusion or another.

... So, with that philosophy as the project's baseline, why have Deco and Yamanaka tried to stop us from voting everyone innocent in Trial 3?

Many people in the MILGRAM fandom have seen and internalized the message from Yamanaka that "if we vote everyone innocent in Trial 3, they'll show us hell." However, I've begun to question whether this is advice we're really meant to follow.

As most MILGRAM fans already know, the MILGRAM project is based off of the real-life experiments performed by Stanley Milgram in 1961. In it, real college students were brought in to perform in an experiment alongside (unbeknownst to them) actors. All of the students were assigned the role of "teachers," and all of the actors were assigned the role of "learners." The learners were brought into an interrogation room, where they were hooked up to (fake) electric torture devices operated by the teachers. The "experimenters" (the scientists running the study) would tell the teachers to continuously shock the learners any time they failed to correctly repeat memorized content, with the punishments getting more and more drastic with each failure. In reality, the experiment attempted to test how much a person would be willing to hurt others while under the instruction of someone seemingly knew better. The results of Stanley Milgram's study showed that the teachers became very willing to hurt other people because someone told them to do so.

MILGRAM recreates this setup with its characters. Our ten prisoners are the learners, and while they aren't actors, their fictional nature fulfills the same purpose as the actors, making it so that no one is really being harmed through the results of our votes. Jackalope is the experimenter, because he's the one telling us to cast the votes, while Es is the teacher, as the person following instructions with very little context. Or at least, this is what the project wants us to believe.

In MILGRAM, it's pretty clear that, while Es is a person in their own right, they're also the stand-in for us as the audience. Obviously, we as real-life people are the ones actually casting the votes for who's innocent and who's guilty on the MILGRAM website and app. But that meta aspect of the project is also directly referred to within the project itself, as Es struggles with their identity as a person instead of a thought collective in many of the audio dramas. Therefore, in relation to the Milgram experiment, I would argue that we, the viewers are the equivalent to the Milgram experiment's "teachers," not Es. They're more so, like, the button that's being pressed.

However, if we're willing to accept that Es as their own entity isn't really the one being tested by the voting system, then I think we need to consider whether Jackalope as his own entity is really the one who's testing us with the voting system. Us viewers aren't really being jerked around and told to vote by the cartoon rabbit himself; we're being told to participate in the show's direction via our votes by the real-life creators of the project, Deco and Yamanaka. Thus, Jackalope is not the experimenter in this metaphor, Deco and Yamanaka are. And these experimenters have only given us one steadfast rule: "don't vote everyone innocent in Trial 3.

Hurt these characters because we told you to do so."

If the teachers in the real Milgram project wanted to "beat" the system, they needed to take a stand for themselves and say that enough was enough, refusing to administer lethal electric shocks to the learners. While Jackalope hasn't really told us to do anything, Deco and Yamanaka have. Therefore, I theorize that if we want to "beat" MILGRAM and get the best possible ending, we have to vote all of the characters innocent in the third trial. While refusing to pass verdicts by giving everyone an even 50:50 would probably be even better, the odds of that happening are basically impossible, so to the extent that MILGRAM was built with a win condition in mind, I think this has to be it.

While it might seem scary to directly defy authority in that way, deciding against defying authority was exactly how the Milgram experiment's teachers failed the test of kindness that was put before them. Not to mention, choosing forgiveness seems to fit with the question Undercover posits of whether it's really okay to judge/punish someone based merely on your own opinion, and an interview I saw once (but couldn't find again, sorry) where Yamanaka said that one of his goals with Milgram was to get his audience to think harder about so-called "villains" they might see on the news or the internet, and what circumstances might have led them into that situation.

As someone who self-identifies as a meta voter in MILGRAM, it's my belief that the heart of meta voting has always been an attempt to help everyone. We didn't vote Amane guilty in T1 or Muu guilty in T2 because we hated them, but because we thought that telling Amane that the methodology of her church was wrong and reeling back Muu's blame-shifting would be the best thing for their personal growth. Even if we were seemingly very, very wrong about what was best in some circumstances, every choice was made in an attempted act of love.

For any fellow meta-voters who feel the same (or non-meta voters who are willing to dip their toes into voting meta-textually for the sake of the characters' happiness), I encourage you to vote everyone innocent in Trial 3, as I believe it's the most likely path to the happiest ending we have available to us. It's scary to throw the prisoners we've tried so hard to protect directly into the line of fire of something we've been told is "hell," but hopefully this little essay has managed to convince you that that "hell" might just be a false premise designed to keep us in line.

Thank you for reading, and here's to a non-soul-crushing T3~!

[pupmkincake2000]

Why do people who are against hankcon always talk about the power imbalance in their relationship? They say it's problematic, since one of them is the boss, and the other is the subordinate… Although yes, in the police, people who are in a relationship cannot be partners and work on the same team but for some reason it doesn't bother anyone in dbh fandom...

What I mean is that this argument assumes that Hank and Connor operate within a strict hierarchy, similar to a boss-subordinate relationship, but that’s not really the case here.

First, Connor isn’t technically under Hank’s command. He’s a CyberLife prototype assigned to assist the DPD, not a formal part of the police force’s internal structure. He doesn’t report to Fowler or Hank in a hierarchical sense, and Hank can’t give him binding orders. In fact, the game shows multiple instances where Connor defies Hank, makes independent decisions, or even directly confronts him, like in the interrogation scene with the deviant threatening suicide.

Second, their relationship is portrayed as a partnership. That’s emphasized throughout the game. They learn to work together, challenge each other, and build trust on equal footing, not as a superior and subordinate.

Lastly, Hank is not the one holding authority in their dynamic. If anything, Connor is the one with greater control. Physically, tactically, and narratively. Depending on player choices, he can lead investigations, override human input, or shape the outcome of the entire story.

So if there’s a power imbalance, it certainly doesn’t favor Hank, and it’s not one that compromises the emotional or romantic credibility of their connection.

If Hank and Connor were to start a romantic relationship and Connor chose to formally join the police force, the solution would be simple: they’d just stop being direct partners.

There’s nothing in police regulations that prohibits two consenting adults from working in the same department, especially if they’re not in a direct chain of command. Plenty of departments allow for romantic relationships, as long as there’s no supervisory dynamic involved.

In their case, Hank and Connor already operate more as equals than as superior/subordinate and adjusting their assignments to remove potential conflict of interest would be a standard procedural step, not a dramatic complication. It’s an administrative issue, not a moral or narrative one.

[eva-stator]

I think I can try to answer anons questions about the characterizations. Apologies in advance because this is LOOOOOONG.

First things first, to be in the SAS means more than just being a soldier. The British SAS are the literal top of the top, cream of the crop of their special forces. They are compared a lot with DEVGRU (seals) and Delta Force. Less than 1% of armed forces members can pass selection and complete their training. They are all, in their own ways, very hardened individuals. They’re all extremely intelligent in several skills, and equally competent. (This isn’t to stroke off the special forces. They are not superhuman and are never immune to dying from their own mistakes or pure bad luck. It’s extremely dangerous to be in counter terrorism or do raids like they do, and a not insignificant amount die of dumb mistakes or unavoidable circumstances. But they’re not to be fucked with either)

Soap is sniper, demolitions expert. These require math skills and chemical knowledge. He’s intelligent, stoic sometimes but more spirited. He wants to help. He gets angry when bad things happen, and he seems to really care about civilians. He’s got a strong sense of right and wrong, and voices his opinions always. He pushes buttons and boundaries, but he’s no braggart. Equally, he is intense. His humour is actually kinda dry and teasing, banter style humour. He’s not actually very silly.

Ghost is more ambiguous. He’s more rugged and detached. More introverted. He only starts joking with soap in alone, more than halfway through the game, so his trust is gained through time and effort. His humour is dry, sometimes dad jokes and sometimes fucked up jokes. Overall, he’s emotionally detached and goal oriented. He’s got a bit of the sillies though, just a taste.

Gaz is an extremely important main character. He was vital in all games, including the first mw reboot game in 2019, his character was made before soap and ghosts were. (Which is why his deliberate exclusion is a goddamn travesty). He’s spirited and strong, his skills of resistance to interrogation, escape and evasion, as well as VIP protection means he’s an intelligent independent mind. While injustices anger him, he’s got a level head and can cede to reason and keep that anger supressed, as well as be an important voice of reason. He can also be sympathetic and guiding, as seen in the mission where he guides a civilian through an extremely dangerous situation to safety.

Captain price is a staple character for the series. He’s confident but also slightly unhinged. He’s experienced, maybe a bit detached, he doesn’t give a god damn about consequences unless he gets what he wants or completes his goal. He will throw every law out the window. He will abandon basic morals and principles. He’s extremely dangerous and not to be fucked with or questioned. Hes called John “war crimes” price by the fandom for a reason. He has his more gentle side, but it’s rare and he will only show it to people he seems worthy of it, like Farah Karim or Kate laswell. He saves people but he does it roughly, he never seems to handle civilians with kid gloves, and he’s kinda rough and detached from them. He’ll save your life, but he’ll probably break your arm in the process and definitely won’t apologize for it. It’s important to note he knows what he does is fucked up. He knows people don’t like it. He gives people a way out, lets them choose if they really want to fully jump in the mud with him. He also smokes cigars with car windows rolled up. Absolutely evil action. He’s also my favourite and I love him in a way that you love a grizzly bear.

Obligatory Kate mention. Kate is a cia agent who is basically the leash that keeps John from acting out too hard. She reins them in, keeps them informed. She’s level headed and a quick thinker. She knows how the game of war is played, when and how to play by and within the rules and keeps everyone from breaking them in ways that could spiral out of control. She also knows when to let them do shady shit, and how to get them out of the messes they get themselves into. She is a very strong character, mainly in mind but also in body, and will get her hands dirty if she has to.

TLDR these are deceptively complicated characters, as in, it’s easy to mistake them as pretty surface level. They’re also easy to mistake with their fanon characterizations, which while fun, are often headcanons that the fandom has taken and run with. They’re also, not always very accurate depictions of the characters. If you wanna write them right, you gotta watch and listen to their mission dialogue.

These are generally simplified introductions based on what I observed playing the games.

Tip and trick, if you’re writing a dialogue line, imagine the characters voice saying it out loud. Say it out loud yourself. If you can fully hear the character saying the line, it’s probably a great line. If you can’t picture them saying it, tweak it until you can. This helps me a lot.

Thank you :)

Also love the kate mention