#star scrivening

[dark-nimbus]

My Opinions on Anime and Manga in Western Countries

CW: fetishization, oversexualization, racial stereotyping, as always lmk if I’m missing anything

Everytime I tell someone I'm not an avid fan of anime or manga, the usual response is shock and confusion, paired with "how?? But you're Asian!"

What hasn't occurred to them, I assume, is that those kinds of stereotypes are part of why I'm not a huge fan

Do I hate all anime and manga? No, not at all. In fact I do have a few books and shows that I enjoy, my favorite manga of all time being Arslan Senki (go check it out, the series is criminally underrated). However, I'm very picky about which ones I read and watch, and for very good reason. To be more specific, I'm not a fan of anime and manga as it's been generally received by Western countries

For the record: if you're from the Americas and like manga and anime, this is not me dogging on you. Everyone has the right to enjoy what they do, as long as they aren't harming anyone or their integrity

Now unfortunately, in my experience I've had to deal with the not harmless enjoyers more often than not

Take the first sentence of this post as an example. People always expect me to be largely enthusiastic about East Asian-originating media, despite knowing I've spent the vast majority of my life living in the middle of the US and was raised by people who are the furthest thing from Asian. I know next to nothing about my heritage or my culture and have grown up completely in American society, but even with this knowledge I'll still be met with shocked expressions when I say I've never watched whatever show or how anime isn't my favorite thing in the world. All because I look a certain way

That stereotyping attachment of race to media is just one of the many reasons I don't like anime or manga, and it unfortunately goes deeper than that

Japan already has an issue of oversexualizing women in their media, and you can see it in the skimpy outfits, big boobs, giant eyes, petite forms, and overall simping mannerisms they have towards male characters. This is by no means found in every show or book, but it's present in most. Even Arslan Senki, my favorite manga, favors putting Farangis, a priestess, in a sexualizing outfit over living up to the rest of the story's historical authenticity. With anime and manga growing more popular in the West, the impact of how women are portrayed is reflected in how people interact more and more

I can't tell you how many times I've had to hear about how people, from first dates to classmates to random strangers have fetishized Asian women because they wanted someone to live out their weird anime fantasies with. Hell, I have some stories of my own too. I've known Asian content creators who've been left creepy comments from viewers, some of which asking for them to talk in a high-pitched whiney "anime girl" voice and say a sexualized line using Japanese honorifics in a fetishizing manner. Asian cosplayers will constantly get demands to dress up in a maid outfit or cosplay certain anime characters for them to "simp" over

Even other cosplayers aren't safe from fetishizers. Other PoC cosplayers, black cosplayers especially, are consistently put on blast for cosplaying anime characters because those characters "aren't black." If it's not an Asian cosplayer, the creeps' fetishizing fantasies can't be lived up to, so they give black cosplayers shit instead. But gods forbid they do the same to white cosplayers, since being white is always the default to them apparently. How dare anyone try to give a white cosplayer shit for cosplaying a Japanese character when all anime characters are Japanese, that's unfair to them, right? But it's okay to have a double standard because the characters look white enough, right?

There was even a Japanese boxer from a few months ago that people latched onto, because apparently any East Asian guy with messy blond hair looks like Bakugo. MHA fangirls, many of which being minors, went crazy on him, making comments that are far from appropriate for that kind of interaction and fully reimagining this completely real human being as a fictional character for their own fetishizing purposes

If we're not stereotyped, we're being sexualized. The spreading influence of fetishizing Asian people only grows with the popularity of anime and manga in countries further west. It's been used to thirst, hit on, even threaten East Asian people, women especially. Our safety and comfort has been royally screwed by anime "simps" and it only continues to worsen, even more so for Asian Americans and content creators

One of the worst things about being Asian and growing up in America is how anime was the closest thing to connecting to my culture, and what did anime tell little me about being Asian? That my skin had to be pale, my eyes wide, I had to be short and curvy, and I had to sound ultra-feminine. Those were the values that the world expected out of me. Cassandra Cain was there to be my saving grace, thankfully, but the impression anime girls have on others will never be a positive or realistic one unless Japan re-evaluates its media as a whole and non-Asian viewers can find the maturity to not implement the same things on other people

[aroaessidhe]

Sci-fi books where a queer woman has the ghost of an annoying dead guy in her head

*Misery is nonbinary (she/they) and who’s in her head is not dead or a guy but I’m counting it, okay

[incorrectguardiantalesquotes]

[ravensilversea]

Victory Comes Late

Summary: Victory came too late for Ponds and for so many other brothers. Three years of war plus some months of hashing out a peace treaty written in the blood, sweat, and tears of his brothers but makes no mention of them at all. It’s a Senate proclaimed accomplishment, like they hadn’t refused to even consider peace for three years.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Palpatine Dies AU, Post-War, Light Angst, Grief/Mourning, Reunions, Bittersweet Ending

The largest exhibition hall in the Jedi Temple is almost too small for the sheer number of clone troopers in it now. Really, it is actually too small, but none of them are too concerned with the concept of personal space when this is the first time they’ve all been together for three years.

And yet, Fox pulls his helmet off and tucks it beneath his arm. His guard brushes past him, calling out into the space that’s already echoing with brothers trying to find each other. And yet, they aren’t all here.

Rancor Battalion is still on Kamino and participating in negotiations alongside General Ti to hopefully place the cadets and tubies into the custody of their brothers. The thought alone is almost inconceivable: entire batches of clones who never have to serve on a battlefield, who can stay together and stay alive for years longer than their elder brothers could.

“You joining the party, Fox?” Stone asks, coming to stand beside him.

“You really think Salvo would let us miss it?” Fox walks into the exhibition hall instead of just hovering in the doorway. “Besides, someone has to tell them all how the chancellor really died.”

Ao3

Stone coughs into his hand. “Would that be the actual story or another one of your tales this time?”

Fox refuses to learn about any of the details of Chancellor Palpatine’s, unfortunate, accident. It would ruin the fun of coming up with stupider and stupider ways the late chancellor died and sharing them around the caf brewer. Call it his own personal revenge against the man who insisted on calling each and every one of his brothers by CC or CT number and number alone, the way the Guard all but tiptoed around him, how many of his brother assigned to the chancellor’s guard when traveling off planet simply disappeared without a trace, and every single shiny who the chancellor sent down into the lower levels who came back in a body bag, if at all.

“I have a list of stupid ways for asshole politicians to die, and this might be my only chance to share any of them,” Fox says primly. “Allow me my fun.”

Stone shakes his head. “If you say so.”

They weave through a particularly thick crowd of brothers, and someone flags them down. “Hey commanders, I think your squads are meeting over on the stands!”

“That’ll be Cody’s idea,” Fox mutters as Stone thanks the brother for the directions. “Always did need to be on top of things.”

“Not sure the stands top Tipoca City’s comm tower.”

Fox looks up at the ceiling that rises so high above their heads it can barely be seen and then gives Stone a look.

“Okay, so maybe they could.”

The commander squads are gathered in a clump in the middle of the stands, and sure enough, Cody’s yellow-orange paint is higher than anybody else, shining like a beacon. Fox and Stone pass Alpha Squad on their way up the stands where Wolffe and Thire look about two seconds from murdering a squadmate or two.

“I’m sorry,” Gregor says just as they pass by, “but do you think you could repeat that? Or maybe replay it? I’m not sure I heard you correct-ly!” His voice rises sharply as he falls back under the weight of two brothers, and Fox hops up a handful of rows. Stone jumps back with a curse.

Poet looks up from their padd with a distinct ‘can you believe I’m stuck with them?’ expression of their face. Fox bites his lip and shakes his head, mentally wishing them good luck. 

Force, Alpha’s only missing Blitz whose stuck on Kamino. They all made it, the lucky bastards.

“Fox! Stone!” Salvo slams into Fox with a broad grin and pulls Stone up the remaining steps to wrap his arm around him too. For a moment, the three of them just breathe. “It’s good to see you again,” Salvo whispers.

“Yeah,” Fox pulls away and meets Gree’s eyes over Salvo’s head. “Wait until you hear what happened to the chancellor.”

“The old one, right? Cause the one we have now is an upgrade.” Gree throws a thumb back over his shoulder. “C’mon, we grabbed a spot by Chimaera.”

Fox starts laying out the first ‘So this is what I heard from somebody who heard it from somebody’ as they walk lengthwise along the stands until Gree and Salvo pull them down onto the benches. Just above them sits Chimaera Squad with it’s three near-silent members. As he tells his story, Fox watches Neyo try to get Keller and Faie to say more than a few words strung together, and it suddenly hits him that both Lock and Colt were dead.

The story ends, and his brothers make noises of disbelief. “Oh really?” Fox says. “Well, how about this one that I heard from a janitor who heard it from his sister’s husband’s brother’s friend.” Stone buries his head in his hands with a groan.

Ponds would have told Fox to stop by the second story, but he’s not around to hear them. The lack of protest from that quarter sits heavy in Fox’s chest. He barrels through the story anyway, almost even more spitefully. 

Victory came too late for Ponds and for so many other brothers. Three years of war plus some months of hashing out a peace treaty written in the blood, sweat, and tears of his brothers but makes no mention of them at all. It’s a Senate proclaimed accomplishment, like they hadn’t refused to even consider peace for three years.

Almost four years of war because of one man who strung them all along like dew drops on a tent-line.

Fox’s eyes land on a small empty space in a sea of brothers, and his next words die in his throat. There’s a brother standing in the middle of the empty space. He’s thin with shaved hair and implant scars. What’s left of one arm is in a sling across his body, and Fox knows who he is even without the blue of the 501st edging his almost shiny-white, probably borrowed armor.

Come get your Dominoes, Rex had messaged three years ago.

Unless they’re commanders, I don’t claim them, and even that’s debatable, he had messaged back.

Within days, Rex had informed him that due to the sudden death of their commanding officers and the subsequent lack of collection by Fox (Fox had rolled his eyes at this), he was personally taking them under his wing. Rex then spent every other message to Fox bragging about ‘his Dominoes’ like there wasn’t hundreds of Domino training squads spread throughout the army.

For a moment, Fox selfishly wishes that Echo truly had died on the infamous Citadel mission. Seeing him standing alone in a sea of reuniting brothers when Fox is the one who killed his last squadmate…

Victory really did come too late for Rex's Domino squad. 

The reunions and conversations continue on around Fox, blurring into the background. A sea of noise and color turning into a drone as a time seems to slow, but Echo never blurs. He continues to stand alone, seemingly in the middle of a swirling galaxy of brothers without a single person to welcome him home.

Fox finds his feet moving without any input from him. He's halfway down the stairs before Salvo asks him where he's going. “To get another Domino,” he says, almost under his breath, but his squad hears him just the same. 

The floor of the exhibition hall seems to echo with his footsteps. Which is impossible. First of all, the sheer number of clones in the room alone would drown out any noise Fox could possibly make even if they weren't talking at loud volumes. Second of all, there was no way in hell that the Jedi didn't sound proof this room within an inch of its life given the number of lightsaber duels- duels between children at that!- this room must have been used for.

Maybe his footsteps are echoing through him, Fox muses. He takes another step and feels it in his chest.

Time and sound suddenly crash into Fox. Conversations burst into a roar, suddenly Fox can hear so many squadname jokes all at once. It no longer feels like he's stepping through taffy, and all he can do is stand there. Like an idiot. Just in front of Echo.

Force, all he has to do is lift his arm and he could touch this orphaned shell of a brother.

Well, maybe not a shell, he reconsiders as Echo straightens, jutting his chin out a bit and brown eyes flashing with a challenge. There's still quite a bit of fight left in his one, which is more than Fox can say for the Chimaera commanders back on the stairs. 

“Echo,” Fox says, figuring that's as good a start as any.

“What do you want, commander?”

Fox falters. Opening and closing his mouth, he glances back at his squad who have ceased any and all conversations to stare at him trying and failing to talk to a CT.

“If you're here to apologize, don't. There's nothing you can say,” Echo continues, and Fox winces. If it was his squadmate shot and killed by another's hand, he doesn't think he would have said those words so mournfully acceptingly. No. Every trooper in this hall would likely have to hold him back from trying to beat the shit out of the one who killed his squadmate.

He flexes his hands, tries not to imagine how Aurra Singh's neck would feel wrapped in them as he squeezes the life out of her for what she did to Ponds. 

“It's not something that can be forgiven, no matter how much I regret it,” Fox says. “But that isn't why I'm here, trooper... Echo.”

“Then why, sir?”

For a moment, Fox hesitates, unsure of whether his invitation, his touch would be welcome, but he decides to do it anyway. He reaches out and gently grabs Echo's remaining wrist and lightly tugs it in the direction of the stadium. “Come on. No Domino gets left behind.”

He waits for Echo to take the first step, watching his brother's eyes blink, widen, and then sharpen. Echo looks past Fox towards the Domino commanders, and whatever he sees there, convinces him.

Fox settles Echo down in the empty spot where Ponds should be, and the way Echo looks around with brighter eyes and a harsh swallow tells him everything about how Rex's little dominoes must have gathered too.

Setting that aside, Fox turns back to his brothers. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, so the Chancellor had ordered breakfast and for some reason, this involved fish. And you know how fish have these tiny little bones they don't always manage to get out when preparing them?”

Gree sighs loudly as he realizes where Fox is going with this latest story about Palpatine's death, and Salvo begins slapping Fox's knee like that's going to stop him. Behind him, Echo muffles a snort, and Fox grins.

Victory came late, but not too late. There are still brothers here who were saved after all.

[alexprime]

My Scrivener layout, which is an absolute hot mess of a shitshow, but somehow works perfectly for my brain!

[eyes-of-nine]

posting them here like a proud parent putting drawings on the fridge LOOK AT MY CHILDREN AAAAAAA

[ilovedthestars]

trick or treat... something spooooky :3

if only i'd ever written a single word of that Frankenstein AU idea...alas! i spent so long mulling this over, i don't really write horror and even like, suspense is rare for me and i think i've shared all the best examples of it.

so here is a more recent wip that i hope is written suspensefully!! to set the scene: a ghost ship has just been detected on the edge of Preservation space. It's drifting under no engine power and not responding to comm contacts. Murderbot goes with the station responder to check it out, and when they get close they pick up a short range "assistance needed" signal. Here's two snips, since they're short:

---

“So they were desperate.” “Yes.” “Why couldn’t we pick up the signal until we got this close? It’s not very good as a distress beacon.” I had also wondered about that, and I had an answer from my analysis of the signal. “It isn’t coming from a bot pilot. It matches the signal strength of a planetary rescue marker. We had similar ones on surveys. It’s meant for a hopper flying over an area to be able to locate a single lost human, not a ship in the middle of space.” “So the bot pilot is probably down, or it would be broadcasting a stronger signal.” “Probably. Or it’s playing dead.” “What’s your assessment?” “We can’t rule out that it’s a corporate decoy.” Indah made an I know, you’ve said that already face, but I wasn’t done. “We shouldn’t stop treating it as a potential threat, but I don’t think that’s the most likely scenario. I think a system failed, some panicked human managed to set off an emergency beacon, and then the ship lost power completely.” “So you think when we board it—“ “We’re going to find a lot of dead humans.”

[they board the ship, and find a lot of dead humans. they go exploring a little bit....]

The size and layout of the room was familiar. Just big enough for Indah and I to both squeeze in without her getting too close to me, but not much bigger. A cabinet in the corner that was tall enough to hold a set of armor. A locked crate to hold weapons and other security equipment. And in the corner— Indah took a step towards the chest-height white cube, looking puzzled. I said, “That’s a cubicle.” She froze. “For?” “For SecUnits.” Indah cursed under her breath. “Is there one inside?” “It’s shielded to scans.” I moved towards the cubicle, and she got out of my way. I had an unpleasant guess about what was still drawing power even before I put my hand on the casing. There was a faint buzz. It was running. I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. There was a SecUnit inside. My threat assessment spiked, even though I had anticipated a high probability that the cubicle was occupied. The SecUnit had its eyes closed, and it didn’t move when I opened the door. I watched it for a few seconds, and then said, “It’s in stasis.” Indah had one hand on her baton, like that was going to do anything against a SecUnit. “What does that mean?” “It’s like sleeping. Or…cryo pods, like on the generation ships…?” I wondered if those actually worked the way they did in the dramatization of Preservation’s founding that I’d watched with my humans once. “It’s partly offline. It will only wake up if a system tells it to.” It still hadn’t reacted to me opening the door. The cubicle didn’t seem to be kicking it into a restart. “It probably disabled the automatic restart and sealed itself in here. It was trying to escape the contamination.” “Clever,” Indah muttered.

[queenerdloser]

me, rereading several of my half-finished oneshots and drafts: huh i love this. damn i'm a good writer. man, i want to read more of this.

me, remembering i have to sit down to write to finish these fics: ah

[wallacejwriting]

I just. Really love the dumb icons in my Scrivener projects. I really do.

[dark-nimbus]

Hello. I really wish I didn’t have to make this, but alas. I wasn’t really given much choice

As many of you know, I’m a huge fan of D&Dorks. Half of my content is D&Dorks. However, recent events have put me in a place where I can no longer support the show as a whole

I’ll go into detail in another post, as today has left me with no energy and very distraught, but for now I’ll tell you this:

I will no longer be associated with Matthew William Selle, aka Sir_Superhero. There is no place for ableism and doubling down or projecting. Such things are not welcome in my space and never will be. Everything I’ve posted that has his face or is tagged with his name will be completely wiped unless relevant as a speaking point. I expected so much better from you

And as for everyone else, specifically those who wish to be any of the -obias and/or -isms, especially towards my friends, let me make something clear: you fuck with my people and you fuck with me

And trust me, you do not want to fuck with me

[dallonwrites]

omg re what program you use to write i was OBSESSSED with ohwrite during nanowrimo it basically lets you create a room (and other people can be in that room and there's a chatbox if you want to write parallel to other people but i also think it's good on it's own) and there's a sprint function you can turn on/off. but the best part is the little progress bar on the side and it gives you a star for every 100 words and a bigger star for 1000 words LITERALLY THE ONLY REASON I WON NANOWRIMO WAS BEACUSE I WANTED TO COLLECT ALL THE STARS LOL. i don't really use the sprint function anymore because i rarely sprint but i still pop in there when i want to write but i need to be pushed to do it. the stars always get me they make me feel like a horse being fed sugarcubes for writing words

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

Instagram: @mariascriven

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

i spent all 40 minutes on the homeward commute rotating some hot takes in my head but i don't have the goddamn time or energy to try organizing them into a coherent pretentious soundbite.

so what i'm understanding is that favloni doesn't know what to do with din when he's not with grogu, favreau thinks hijacking 3 episodes of TBOBF is enough episodes to show din and grogu can't do well without each other and need to be reunited asap, the emotional arc and end of season 2 is actually a joke because the duo gets reunited in boba fett's fucking show so what was even the goddamn fucking point of drawing things out, neither din nor grogu can survive as their own character (and din's show can't survive without grogu), and fucking clearly it's tony gilroy & co. that know how to tell a fucking story with a clearly defined beginning and end.

love star wars. wish it was good.

[fraddit]

Edited 642 today. Draft two is now at 1374.

[shivunin]

micro story prompts: 36 for arianwen, 27 for salshira, 1 for maria

Thank you!! <3 I am especially pleased with the first one c:

(Micro Story prompts)

Charm (Arianwen) 

“We do not need to open the conversation with violence,” Zevran murmured as they approached the cramped little house. 

Arianwen, who was already holding a knife in each hand, cast him a look. 

“We could try charm,” he suggested, and gestured to the house. “They may yet tell us what we wish to know; you could always save the knives for later.” 

“Sure,” Wen huffed, sheathing one blade and reaching for the door, “charm.”

Several minutes later, they stood on the porch of the small house, both of them dripping with blood. Wen wiped her face on her sleeve and cocked an eyebrow at Zevran. 

“Do not say it,” he told her, flicking viscera from his leather armor and grimacing. 

“I thought you were charming,” she told him, and pulled a cloth from her pocket to begin cleaning her knives. 

Profane (Salshira)

Salshira had snuck into this place as part of the staff—they’d looked askance at her vallaslin, but hadn’t asked anything aloud—and at last she’d found herself inside the Chantry’s grand Conclave. There were humans who’d say that just her presence in their sacred temple was a profane act in and of itself. They’d been happy enough when she was there to sweep up after the grand folk and empty their chamber pots, but the second they identified her as an interloper it would all be over for her. Nothing for it; she’d have to leave this closet eventually, or she’d miss precisely the sort of thing she’d attended to see. 

As she stepped into the hallway, the distant echo of a cry for help reached for her. 

“Please—someone, help me!” 

A woman; an Orlesian, from the accent. Salshira was running at once, the hallway blurring beneath her feet. The heavy double door resisted her efforts to open it. When they swung open at last, what she saw was—was—

profane. 

Starry (Maria)

“Are you still awake?” 

Fenris turned his head and looked at Hawke, who was picking her way through the small circle of bedrolls. He’d positioned himself at the end nearest the path, his back to the cliff behind their little camp. For a moment, Maria was only a silhouette against the starry sky, vast and looming beyond them.  

“No,” he told her. Hawke snorted a quiet laugh and settled herself next to him on the fallen tree. 

“Silly question,” she said. Fenris hummed in response and lifted his arm so she could settle herself against him. 

“Someone must keep watch,” he told her, not without regret. “I will join you when I am done.”

Maria sighed, but tilted her chin up anyway. In the moment before he kissed her, Fenris saw the scattered jewels of the night sky reflected in her dark eyes. 

Between her eyes and the night sky, he found the former far lovelier.

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

my honkai star rail fanfictions take up so much space in my scrivener project that's made for loose scraps and ideas that I think I'll just make a new project for them lol

the last three are the ones I'm currently working on! They all have problems of their own that are preventing them from being finished atm