#to infinitely higher standards than white characters

[lesetoilesfous]

Hey listen Allison Hargreeves' arc in s3 was absolutely sensational, Emmy Raver-Lampman is a fantastic actor who pulled it off beautifully, it was so refreshing to have a black woman in a mixed cast given such a nuanced, complex plotline instead of being forced to play love interest / emotional babysitter for her white co-stars

(And maybe we should all question why it's ok for white characters to have flaws, make mistakes and do bad things, but as soon as the black woman does she's suddenly the worst person to ever exist)

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Eusebeia (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes by Dione

Bea by the others

Age- 33 (immortal)

Location- Ioannina, Olympius

Personality- She's a very conservative pious woman who stands true in her values & beliefs. There's nothing more important to her like the reverance, respect, and prayers to the deities of the pantheon. She's single.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of piety, loyalty, duty, & filial respect, her other powers/abilities include being able to manipulate Celestial Bronze, chastity inducement, limited photokinesis, cleanliness inducement, and being able to manipulate the feeling of loyalty in a person & others.

Bea lives in a recently refurbished stone castle in the state of Ioannina. All of the doors are built out of Celestial Bronze. Inside, there's an abundance of silk curtains with the walls painted in cool neutral shades of beige, cream, eggshell, taupe, and powder blue. The interior design is very minimalist & contemporary with many marble, ivory, and stone temple statuettes serve as decorations. Bea has pets like a few cats & dogs as well as a pegasus- a boy named Blanco. He's usually her mode of transportation.

She rarely drinks alcohol though she will indulge herself with a single glass of champagne or white wine every once in a while. Go to drinks for her include coconut water, fruit infused sparkling water, mango juice, & batido de trigo. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean is a large iced green tea and an olympian sized iced vanilla chai tea latte.

Bea's morning routine includes a jog around her neighborhood, a session of tai chi, followed by a steaming hot shower.

She dresses in a conservative fashion style (neutral colors, clothing not too tight, short, or low-cut). She's a fan of minimalist jewelry and soft & subtle make-up. Bea doesn't like high heels for many reasons, the main one being it's impracticality. She won't go higher than kitten heels & she's fond of stylish flats.

Breakfast is her favorite meal of the day. Many of the dishes she makes include scrambled eggs (added with scallions, tomatoes, and onions), ladenia, rizogalo, and a pork-plantain hash (added with spicy sausages).

She goes to church quite often and is a big donator!

Bea dislikes media (art, books, music, television, and movies) that contain an overabundance of explicit material- like coarse language, nudity, & sexual content).

She keeps her nails short, neat, and manicured. She's not opposed to wearing polish, but only in soft colors. She is a fan of Olmorfia's nail polish with her favorite shades being "glacier rose" (a light shimmery iridescent pink), "whipped cashmere" (a soft baby pink), "infinite sun-ner" (a caramel brown), and "mined over matter" (an earthy creamy mauve).

Her favorite dessert is the angel's food cake from Hollyhock's Bakery. She also likes the creme brulee from Aphrodite's patisserie and the frozen vanilla custard from The Frozen Spoon. Bea's also known in the pantheon for her sweet & delicious cucurucho!

Her main job/responsibility is overseeing the construction of all the temples built in the honor of the gods in the pantheon. She also oversees the construction of the country's churches. A notable achievement for Bea was coming up with the layout for Hera's temple that was to be built in Samos. The design included slimmer white columns garlanded with pomegranates & flowers with the walls being carved with images of one of her divine symbols- the peacock. For other work, she writes for O Dianooumenos and Vital Essence magazine. Bea also models for/endorses Glory's Crown (loves the argan oil/biotin repair & restore smoothing shampoo and conditioner), Euryphaessa, White Lily Gallery, Sunshine Radiance (loves the vitamin c brightening peel), Cleanstream, & LipCalm. She also works closely with The Litae.

Bea's personal business is her charity organization called The Pietas Foundation. Other works currently in development is a dating app specifically catered towards celibate & conservative folks with marriage being the goal and a possible tv network focused on faith based, conservative, & family oriented content.

She likes the medianoche sandwich (lightly toasted) from The Bread Box.

A favorite snack of hers are lightly salted plantain chips!

She holds fast in her views and opinions (believing that sex should be between a married couple, heteronormativity, daily prayers & offerings to the gods, etc...). Bea believes in the conservative pious lifestyle with traditional family values. She doesn't disrespect others with "differing lifestyles" & she's always open to having discussions with people who don't share her views.

Her best friend in the entire pantheon is Pistis (goddess of trust, reliability, & good faith). They call each other "sister" and she supported Pistis during the whole drama involving her sister's wedding. Bea's also friends with Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Aeschyne (goddess of modesty & honor), Themis (Titaness of justice), Eváeros (goddess of air & the zodiacs), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity) Praxidike (goddess of judicial punishment), Soteria (goddess of safety), Eunostos (goddess of the flour mill), Promylaia, Eudaimonia (goddess of happiness), Elpis (goddess of hope), & Peitharchia (goddess of obedience & discipline). She's also suprisingly friends with the twins Penia (goddess of poverty) and Ptocheia (goddess of beggary).

She dislikes, but won't openly disrespect Kakia (goddess of vice & moral wrongdoing), Hybris (goddess of insolence, hubris, & reckless pride), Dione, Philotes (goddess of sex, friendship, & affection), and especially Dyssebeia (goddess of ungodliness & impiety)- among others.

A birthday gift from Pistis was a gorgeous jeweled hair clip from Diamond Ave. It cost 2,000 drachmas!

She's celibate (also a virgin) and plans to stay that way until she falls in love and gets married. Bea has her whole wedding planned in her journal! In her journal she also wrote about a time she was tempted to break her promise when she was propositioned by Priapus (god of fertility, vegetable gardens, livestock, sexuality, & masculinity).

In her free time Bea enjoys jogging, swimming, reading (is a fan of literary fiction), knitting, sewing, cooking, yoga, sailing (owns a sailboat), tennis, and pottery.

Some of her favorite dishes include platillo moros y cristiano with bistec de palomolla, ropa vieja, moussaka, dakos, and pastitsio.

"Each step following a vice ultimately leads to damnation."

[femme-enby]

Blah blah blah, I’m stubborn as a mule, I’m ranting about stupid fandom shit, beating the dead horse into the ground mercilessly.

Short summary- I am not proship apparently and I don’t like people whitewashing characters, or feminizing androgynous characters.

Into the rant…

I am genuinely tired of “Frans” or Frisk and Sans as a couple.

And while yeah, it is the notion of aging up Frisk (or Chara or Kris btw) to pair them with an adult character that irks me most importantly… like… it is fucking weird actually. Especially when it’s written in such a way that whichever child went through the underground or whatever and then LATER the story takes place where they’re an adult…

Because honestly? If any family friend saw me at like… 12, actively watched me grow up, and then decided they had romantic feelings for me, I’d think they’re fuckin weird tbh. Weirder than my middle school orchestra teacher giving me his Snapchat while I was at work years later, after not having seen me that entire time. Yeah that was fuckin weird. Dude taught me for an hour or so like every other day back in middle school. Still fuckin weird.

Now imagine a family friend who would have seen me a lot more often. Mad fuckin weird.

So yeah. I find that weird.

But the other thing, a more minor thing that also grinds my gears?

How incredibly feminized Frisk gets. In such a stereotypically way too!

Frisk is CANONICALLY non-binary. They use they/them pronouns. They present pretty androgynous even for a kid. They “flirt” with anyone they have the option to regardless of that person’s presentation.

Yet!!! Frisk always ends up being incredibly feminized. Not just feminized in a general sense, but almost exclusively Frisk gets turned into a scrawny, busty, white woman with perfectly straight hair and full lips.

This kid turned into that nonsense I be seein??? Idk what people are seeing but if y’all want a WHITE kid…

Boom. Pale yellow for the skin, rosy pink cheeks, wide AF eyes. The chances of Chara being white are infinitely higher.

The aged up Frisk rarely ever even looks LIKE FRISK. It wouldn’t be hard to just name this basically brand new character something like “Alex” if these people still wanted a gender neutral name, but frankly I doubt they would considering what they did to the character.

They whitewash and feminize Frisk, a character who has no gender. We are given no indication to Frisk sex (which would be awfully weird since they are, ya know, a CHILD) so people are really just making a woman OC to ship with Sans (usually) but still choose to to name her Frisk and tie her to a non-binary child.

For what reason?

People were in an uproar about artists making Rose (Steven Universe) skinny. Now the harassment and threats were completely unnecessary, but the general upset wasn’t necessarily wrong in my opinion.

Fat people, POC, LGBT+ people still struggle for representation. If fans want skinny, white, busty characters that they ain’t seeing in the original material… make an OC!! Ain’t nothin wrong with that!

But there ain’t any reason to take an existing character and alter them to fit into eurocentric beauty standards. Not for your preference, not to fit into your fantasy, not for anything.

These people are often amazing artists! Clearly capable of incredible skill, and likely possess impressive imaginations as well! Imagine up a new name at the least!

Seriously- why do I see more diversity in blank face Y/N solid grey placeholders than adult Frisk art? Like yeah I don’t even think it should be a thing when you’re shipping them with one of the adult monsters, but honestly the fact that regardless of how “not frisk” they all look… I KNOW that is SUPPOSED to be adult Frisk because they all look like the same bland ass white lady!!!

Meanwhile they “Y/N” placeholders be chubby, tall, disabled, they’ll have afros and braids, they’ll have more masculine builds, etc.

I ain’t even realize they could be personalized like that! I love it!! Hope to keep seeing more of it even if it comes across my dash in some fandom I don’t even know the name of!!!

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

[olderthannetfic]

Ah, I do see your points, anon. I'm not going to post all your asks publicly because if you really feel that unsafe, it's probably best not to have a bigass chunk of your text for people to analyze and try to guess your identity from. I think one of the best points you made is about how close to home it hits when the non-fave is not only your fave but is similar to you in some way like demographic. You're not wrong for having those emotions. I do wonder if they make it hard to see how some other people feel similarly embattled on other axes.

TBH, I think one of the big problems here is that the large aggregate patterns you're talking about are racist, but most individual fics and fans are not really the problem. It's hard to know how to talk about this or who to tell to "fix" it when we're looking at free, hobbyist art.

A lot of people's tastes are certainly formed by shitty society, but once they're formed, they don't change fast if at all. Asking someone to rewrite their libido is a big ask, yet tumblr does it all the time as though it's as simple as snapping your fingers.

This leaves me with the sense that a lot of tumblr is... like... the political lesbians of porn fic or something: desire is not real, only choosing based on logic and politics. Or maybe people are so asexual that they just don't understand the lizard brain's "YES!" at some porn things and complete indifference to others?

I don't think it's great if great swaths of people feel like bottom!Nicky is super hot and top!Nicky fundamentally isn't, but I also don't think they can necessarily just turn it off like flipping a switch.

(If someone reading this doesn't like their current tastes and wants to attempt to alter them, I do think it's possible. What you should do is line up a large slate of media that prominently features characters of the ethnicity or whatever that you don't find hot/interesting. These should be leads whose emotional development drives the plot and is supposed to be central to the audience's enjoyment of the media. Watch/read/etc. this media all the time. All. The. Time. Try out many pieces because you won't like every character or every show, and we're looking for genuine enjoyment, not the fandom equivalent of a pity fuck. Spend enough time on this, and your unconscious sense of who's hot and interesting will eventually shift somewhat. This is a project you should expect to take a few years.)

But I digress.

The one tweet thing is a very toxic pattern. If TOG fandom is doing that, guys, please try to be more conscious of holding the actors of color to a higher standard (or the women or whomever). I know this often comes from a place of paying more attention to our own and wanting to set a good standard, but the effect is that minorities can't fuck up ever while white dudes get infinite passes.

Okay, on to the fic thing... Gotta say, my instant reaction to that description is "Ooh!"--as it would be for the same scenario with the characters reversed. (Ships who start out trying to kill each other are my favorite! x1000 if they're resurrecting style immortals and they literally do.) I can see how it would feel like slamming into a brick wall if you aren't kinky in just the right way and you didn't know it was coming though.

Part of why I react so strongly to a lot of discourse that runs along these lines is that I am a naturally extremely kinky person. It's not so much about what I do (which as a deeply lazy person in a long distance relationship is essentially nothing), but it's absolutely how I'm wired.

And I can tell you that my quotidian experience in fandom is sharing something I don't even realize is a big deal only to have someone I like, respect, and trust react in horror and tell me that it's triggering and awful and should not be allowed in fandom spaces because it makes "people" unsafe. It's such an instant, kneejerk reaction they don't even realize I was sharing it because it spoke to the very core of me. Lesson learned, friend. Lesson learned.

That sounds a bit off topic, I know, but bear with me: The point of that anecdote is that it's pretty common for me to get people trying to raise my awareness of things I have already thought deeply about while denying my essential humanity and not even realizing. As a kinky person who likes to make my fave the top (and generally a conflicted sadist), this constant request to explain and justify is exhausting.

I doubt most of the top!Joe fans have this precise problem simply because people who make their fave the top are much less common in fandom than people who make their fave the bottom, but I see a similar pattern with fans who are just fundamentally wired for rape fantasies (one of the most common fantasies that exists) vs. fans who just don't get rape fantasies at all. Or substitute your BDSM/kinky/messed up fantasy trope of choice. Covertly radical feminist attitudes towards kink and power are on the rise in fandom, and as a naturally kinky person, boy do I notice it!

I know that it feels like crucial activism to share these insights about why the ratio of top!Joe is hurtful, and the pain you feel is real. But it's also the case that it's a big ask to want people to listen. (Not me. Obviously, I routinely choose to engage with discourse. I mean overall.) The reason for that is that you're only seeing a fraction of what they do or who they are, and you don't know how many previous people they've listened to how many previous times. It's a very different situation from someone whose job is making some major TV series or movie or something. That person does, in my opinion, owe you some amount of listening.

Now, I'm not saying no top Joe fan was ever a jerk. I'll bet they were. There's a tendency to be rude and to publicly air your schadenfreude when you feel like everyone has been yelling at you. What I am saying is that a lot of the problem here boils down to conflicting needs, and that means there isn't a good solution. It's a situation where people are genuinely hurt, but I don't necessarily agree that other people have harmed them.

I like that you did an actual count of the explicit fics, btw. It's good to look at the real numbers. I see too little of that in these situations. My off the cuff reaction is that 2/3 to 1/3 is not a bad ratio at all compared to many fandoms, but yeah, it definitely shows a strong trend, and that can be painful. (I have a fandom where I think there's maybe like 1 bottom so-and-so fic in the entire zine era fandom. One. It's pretty extreme.)

I guess my thinking here overall is: What is the practical solution? What are we hoping to gain? What is reasonable to ask of people?

And it can't be "Well, if they would just listen..." That's just a sneaky way of saying "If you haven't done it my way, it's because you haven't listened to me yet."

So the question I would ask of people is this:

What does a non-racist fic where Joe tops look like?

What does a non-racist sex pollen, dubcon, or even noncon fic where Joe tops look like?

And if you say the latter is impossible... well... sadists exist everywhere in the world. So do doms. So do people who prefer to top in a purely physical sense. People with rape fantasies where they're the rapist exist (people who are not actually rapists, I mean). None of this is restricted to any one group. We can't categorically say fic like that about Joe is coming from a place of racism without denying the fundamental humanity of kinky MENA people who'd want to make Joe like themselves or like their ideal partner. (Yes, I agree this won't be the majority of fic writers writing top!Joe, but this is a place to start for figuring out what the better version would look like.)

IDK, maybe you're that kinkster yourself, but your asks gave me the vibe that you don't really get the drive towards those darker kinds of fics and what might be motivating it besides stereotypes and shittiness.

If we can answer these kinds of questions, we can better critique the way people write what they write without telling them all of their taste is bad and they should just stop writing. Even if we think the latter is true, it isn't going to get us anywhere. Figuring out how to make Joe more multidimensional in the fic they already want to write or finding very specific wording that should be avoided might actually work.

Beyond that, the actions I think are productive would be running prompt fests, exchanges, or other events for bottom!Joe or for top!Joe where he's the main character and the fics are required to be from his POV. Themed collections and recs lists are great. (I've seen a bit of this going around in TOG fandom in the past, and that's an excellent approach! Keep it up!) Positive actions tend to work better here. Make more of what you want. Promote what you want to see.

I don't mean this in some fluffy magical thinking way: you aren't going to change that ratio radically just by the power of positivity. But I've seen this kind of thing play out in many, many fandoms, and going after the people who write what you don't like, even in a well-intentioned effort to educate and even in a polite, kind way doesn't do much. A few people feel guilty. A few feel defensive. A lot ignore you. The overall fic doesn't change. It's not a good use of your limited time and energy.

I'm off to look up that fic to see what I think of it in practice, but I'm going to post this before tumblr manages to eat it.

[caruliaa]

ugh okay so like. ive wanted to talk abt this for a while but i didn't want to destroy my inbox yknow but at this point idc so like. theres, from my experience as a person of colour, a big issue of racism and white favorism in the cs fandom, especially intersecting w wlwphobia/lesbaphobia and sexism/bias against female characters and honestly im just really tired of it.

i think one of the biggest and most frustrating examples of this is how so much of this fandom treats carmen herself. so many of you shit on carmen for no reason saying that shes "boring" or whatever and it honestly drives me up the wall. Carmen is actually a really interesting character and has much more personality than the average vigilante type character (especially those that are white guys) and yet so many of you constantly talk abt her badly and its just really obvious thats its because your standards of what makes a character "interesting" are infinitely higher when that character is a (both sapphic and trans coded) woman of colour.

and this becomes even more obvious when you look at how much of this fandom obsesses over generic white male characters. the fact that so many of you act like characters like mime bomb and neal the eel that only appear in a couple episodes and aren't well developed at all because they're literally side character are so amazing and interesting and then act like carmen who is much more developed and interesting and literally THE MAIN FUCKING CHARACTER is boring and annoying and toss her aside is so annoying. 

im not you can't like side characters or focus on vile more than other characters, im fine with the people in the fandom that focus on characters like countess cleo and dr bellum or jean paul and antonio more, the main issue the fact that people focus on white male characters like mime bomb, neal the eel, maelstrom, etc.

this also ties into the way so many non carulia shipper talk about carulia. like so many of you act like shippers and the ship itself are annoying for pretty much just existing and while its clear that a decent amount of that is due to wlwphobia its also clear that its also somewhat due to racism because carmen and julia are both women of colour. especially seeing as so many of you insist on shipping these two women of colour that objectively speaking have the most chemistry with each other with white men that they are both clearly romantically uninterested in instead. it all just feels really iffy and gross to me when you realise that.

there is also a bit of an issue with the way some carulia shippers characterise carmen as a flirty latina stereotype and julia as an innocent asain stereotype, but this is is a lot less common that those posts going around a while ago made it out to be. still i have noticed this mostly in a few fanfics on ao3 and the like so i will say that ppl need to try avoid those stereotypes (i think they're a lot more common among shippers on sites other than tumblr and discord, which is probably why i haven't seen them that often) (also julia being characterised as submissive and the like is a lot more common for when shes shipped with chase (a white man) imo so like :/)

also the fact that so many of you obsess over chase, a white man that repeatedly diminishes and talks down a woman of colour and has yet to apologise to her, is just really tiring, especially as so many of you ignore how rude hes been to julia. like i get if you want to have a male character to focus on but like shadowsan (outside of the context of that gross ship w zack u nasties) is literally right there. you have no reason to be obssesing over a white man thats repeatedly very rude and demeaning to a woman of colour lol.

im not saying that all of you are deliberately racist (though seriously white ppl you need to stop taking people pointing out racist things you do as a personal attack) but i am saying that some of you literally need to re-examine your biases with how you view the characters in the show because holy shit its tiring.

other ppl of colour feel free to add on to this, theres probably a couple things i missed. white ppl you can reblog but please for the love of fuck dont clown on this post

[joeyglowy]

Bad Study Habits ft. Miya Twins

In which the Miya Twins learn not to waste your time when they are the ones that asked for help. That, and that their necks are surprisingly quite sensitive. 

(Call it a commemoration for Miya Osamu finally having his character designs introduced, even if it’s the fucking laziest but most beautiful thing I’ve seen all week)

Miya Atsumu x Reader, 1500+ words Miya Osamu x Reader, 1700+ words

(I promise, I love them, almost equally)

Miya Atsumu

“Why do I need ta know Avocado’s number? Unless he’s down to help a brother getting blue balled by his own girlfriend, tell him I’m not interested.”

“It’s Avogadro’s number and for once in your life can you not think with your dick? We’re not here to have sex; I’m here to make you pass your chemistry test so you don’t get another detention for slacking off in class!”

For the past eighteen minutes, you had been using your middle and index finger to rub circles into your temple, a vain attempt to soothe the hammering headache that jabbed your eyelids each time Atsumu opened his mouth.

When your boyfriend had come to your door, ‘begging’ you to help him with chemistry, you found it pleasantly endearing. For all the faults to which Miya Atsumu had—for which there were many—he had unfortunately perfected the art of looking just sheepish enough that it became adorable while still bristling his feathers like a proud peacock that just made you want to pull his chubby cheeks. He was the naughty puppy that still had his ravenous canines punctured in your favourite lita boots with his tail tucked between his legs. He was that one bad kid in every class who fooled around but all the female teachers doted on him anyways because he was charismatic in that childishly infuriating way that made them lower their standards when he finally put in the effort.

Miya Atsumu, put bluntly, is a godforsaken brat.

“[Name]-chan! My chem teacher’s threatenin’ me! He said if I fail one more quiz I’ll have to sit through at least three detentions just, doin’ I don’t know, symbiosis! You gotta help me; you’re my girlfriend, aren’tcha?”

Yet, you somehow fell for this idiot anyway.

Enamoured with his honey-lemon eyes, you decided not to tell him that what you were doing was in fact stoichiometry and symbiosis is actually a biology term. But with the way he had grabbed your shoulders, for an inexperienced lover like yourself, it was more than enough to trigger a visceral reaction that caused some internal organ to clog your throat. His subtle guilt-trip did not go unnoticed but with your brain short-circuiting, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you had dumbly nodded, cursing your inability to deal with intimacy and members of the opposite sex as you allowed him to barge into your home.

Since he was always practicing, you thought it would be a chance to do something that couples do. Using your infinite knowledge collated from various fanfictions and shoujo manga online, you had constructed a seemingly infallible plan to make the most of your time with Atsumu. It involved having every excuse to stare at him without being teased for it and if anything, you would be in the rare position of the teaser, playfully pointing out his mistakes to which he’d probably pout and whine about before undoubtedly, once you were done, he’d demand a reward. Enter obligatory make out sesh. Which of course, was more than welcome in your book. You were a simple girl and he had cultivated excellently curved muscles from his years of volleyball, sue your transparency.

There was just one chink in your perfectly polished armoured plan.

Atsumu was a brat above all else. A horny one.

Tutoring him was like trying to make caramel for the first time.

At first, you think it’s going well. You’re simmering the white sugar, careful and attentive, determined to make it a success. Yet, as the browning starts to come in from the edges, a funny aroma that was not the scent of sweetness but one of something being grossly burned beyond recovery did you realise just how taxing the job was. Before you knew it, it was like having your kitchen on fire, the ignition source being the abomination that is Miya Atsumu.

As Osamu would say, “His mental age regresses by five years when he’s playing. . . but it plummets by ten when he’s, god forbid it, studyin’.”

If he wasn’t whining, he was trying to stroke your legs with his spider fingers under the kotatsu, creeping up your thigh only to be smacked away by your own hand to which he’d just go back to loudly whining. He had the attention span of a five year old and the attitude of a twelvie that equalled a near migraine for you. Least to say, you were far too annoyed to be turned on now so you had abruptly gotten up in a fit of annoyance, told him you were going to drink some water and left him in the living room.

You sighed, the water only granted a moment’s worth of reprieve as you headed back to the living room to see his honey coloured mop of hair from behind. Your eye twitched when you looked from behind to see him doodling an avant-garde penis on the page. Lovely.

He still hadn’t noticed you peering over his shoulder so you took the chance to admire the back of his head, watching how his hairline faded out from beneath his undercut, the roots of his old hair still left their stain. You wondered if his neck down ever got cold, with the constant exposure and all. The longer you stared, the more you felt your stomach lurch, toying with a lingering thought that just might get you what you wanted after all.

In a swift movement, with your lips gently planted on the supple flesh, beneath his hairline, you caressed the skin tenderly. Your lips quirked upward to hear a squeak from your boyfriend who had shuddered violently, his shoulders shaking as his penis drawing gained an unexpected gradient slope, his pen streaking in a straight line across the page. You chuckled into his neck; nipping at it playfully as your hot breath caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. Pleased with the pinkish hue that spread across the skin like paint, you pulled away as Atsumu snapped his head towards you, moon eyed.

Although you may have burnt the caramel, it looks like you’ve found some hidden strawberries to snack on instead.

You watched the way his pretty blush flourished to his cheeks while he looked visibly affronted by your sneak attack. “Wh-what do ya think yer doin’!?” he spluttered on the spot, his hand flying to his neck as if you had just bitten into it. You wanted to lick your lips at the thought before you narrowed your eyes sternly, trying not to let a wolfish grin slip through the cracks.

“I don’t know about you but personally, I despise wasting time, don’t you ‘Tsumu?”

You drummed your fingers on the kotatsu’s surface, slow and pronounced. His golden eyes zeroed onto them in anticipation. You licked your lips. All these food metaphors made you realise just how starved you are. Atsumu being someone who had always been observant, seemed to pick up on your hunger as well, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, as he glanced up at you from under his lashes, anxious. You turned back to the paper, almost nonchalant, as if you weren’t aware of his clenched fists and tensed thighs.

“Yet, you seem to be taking advantage of my generosity, good boyfriends shouldn’t do that ‘Tsumu. You’re a good boyfriend, aren’tcha?” you drawled lowly, as you started glancing at your nails using your other hand, viciously using his guilt-tripping tactic from before.

Atsumu looked positively famished. His brows twisted up guiltily, that sheepish, puppy look on his face once more. Still, you could see his eyes shining too bright, still thinking that it’d go his way if he played nice. He was a mischievous imp that was a little too used to getting what he wants. You decided you weren’t going to fall for it this time.

“[Name], I didn’t--”

“Oh, but you did,” you sharply interrupted him and he winced. Your heart throbbed and as much as you loved teasing him, you did want this to end with him pinning you to the couch so you smiled softly. “Why don’t we finish studying, yeah? Then you can make it up to me.”

If Atsumu wasn’t getting blue balled before, then he certainly is now. He had no idea how the situation began to drip with sexual undertone but with the unbearable heat coursing through him, he could only nod helplessly, at your mercy. For the remainder of the studying session, while it had become increasingly harder for him to stay focused with his raging hormones going haywire, he clung onto every single word that fell from your mouth like it was a lifeline as the incomprehensible scribbles on the page finally morphed into numbers and words that he could understand.

You grinned victoriously to see the eager look Atsumu would get in his eyes, awaiting your praise and what he thinks is his reward once you had both finally gotten through the content. He really is just like an overzealous, whiny puppy that wants his treat. Well now, this will most certainly result into an exciting night for you, just as you had planned.

You smirked triumphantly.

‘All according to keikaku.’

Miya Osamu

“So, do you know how to use Avogadro’s number?”

“Mm? Avocado?”

You sighed. “No, can’t you stop thinking about food for a second, it’s Avo—Osamu!” you yelped, seeing your boyfriend barely stirring from the nest he’s made with his arms as he blinks blearily at you. The sleep in his eyes quite nearly breaks open every dam with the unparalleled force that is your love and affection and ability to just gush about how adorable this man is for hours and yet, you are forced to restrain yourself. As much as you adore Miya Osamu, he is unfortunately, just as much of an idiot as his brother—yet strangely manages to get within a range of 1 to 5 per cent higher than him on every test.

Osamu lets a little smile slip. “Avosamu? I thought it was Avogadro.”

You offered him a hard glare before deflating into the kotatsu, just like he did. He perked his head up to hear your muffled groans, his lips quirking up at how cute you sound. “Osamuuuu, you need to study for the test tomorrow! It’s worth a third of your grade!” you exclaimed, erupting from the cocoon of your arms to pout at him. Osamu grimaced just a little because every move he made was with restraint as he guiltily looked away.

“I know but m’tired,” he mumbled into his arms, burying his nose into them. “From practice,” he clarified with a grumble that faded out into something roughly incoherent. You had to stop yourself from smiling at his petulant tone of voice as you sighed, shaking your head. He was a kid, just like Atsumu too apparently.

“I know but . . .” you trailed off to see him in a sleeping position. You shook your head, unable to stop your smile this time as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. A sound rumbled from his chest and you snorted, of course only Osamu would be able to do the human equivalent of purring. His face resurfaced from the blanket of his arms as he leaned into your touch, sighing contently. You found your hand devoured by the dishevelled mess that was his hair as you fondly played with his matted grey tresses. Your love for this man warmed your heart beyond words as you could feel yourself relaxing—you blinked.

Wait a minute.

The way you ripped your hand out of his hair was like a splash of cold water to the face as he startled, bewildered by your forceful action as you glowered at him. “You fox!” you hissed. He blinked innocently in return as you shook your head adamantly. “I will not be an accomplice to your illicit sleeping endeavours! Nor the reason why you fail tomorrow’s test and have to stay back to do catch up work! Atsumu and the team would never let you live it down you know!”

You clutched your beating heart with a flush on your cheeks. ‘Ahh, that was close! He’s much more convincing than I thought but I won’t be fooled!’

You offered him another glare before sighing. You’d done that too many times this session you now realised. “Look, I’ll get you some tea, okay? But after that, you have to stay awake! You’ll be in big trouble if I come back and you’re asleep,” you softly reprimanded him although he looked completely unabashed as he nodded.

“Mm’kay.”

You were only gone for five minutes but when you had returned . . . he was definitely in trouble.

You gripped the steaming cup of hot tea by the handle; careful not to brush your knuckles on the actual cup so you don’t burn yourself and spill it like a waterfall. Carefully, you placed the cup of tea out of reach so he doesn’t knock it over before you plopped onto the cushion next to him, pouting. Really, coming over, begging you to help him study, only to fall asleep in front of you, what a tease. . .

“Jeez, I was hoping for some, fun times after we finished up too~” you whined to yourself, letting your chin fall to your fist before a movement other than your own caught you from the corner of your periphery.

You narrowed your eyes. His lashes flickered like a butterfly’s wings, elegant yet silent. Then nothing. You drummed your fingers slowly on the kotatsu’s surface before aptly concluding that your, apparently, asshole boyfriend, was faking his slumber. Your Sleeping Beauty was actually a Beast in disguise so it would appear. You pursed your lips, blowing air from your nose like a puffing, huffing steam train. He wants to play like that, does he?

You swiftly rose out of your seat before standing behind him, your shadow devouring him. You just might too if Osamu doesn’t tread carefully. You eyed his fraying hairline, beneath his undercut. You wondered how sensitive it would have now become, what, with it being constantly exposed to the frigid air all the time. A smile coyly played to your lips, as you hummed kittenishly before leaning down.

Tenderly, you placed your lips to the back of his neck, giving it a quick peck.

You looked up, gauging for a reaction but received none. You smiled daringly. Perhaps your dear boyfriend needs a bit more persuasion. You pressed another kiss into his neck. And another one. Accompanied by another. Before you began peppering his neck in searing kisses, from the roots of his hair to the brim of his collared uniform. You watched in delight as the skin gradually increased in heat while you continued to reap the benefits of your ravenous exploits.

You could feel the skin beneath your lips beginning to tremble but since he still wouldn’t reveal he was awake. . . it might be time to go exploring. You hovered over his ‘sleeping’ frame as both your hands slithered under the arms pillowing his face. They coiled around his waist and you found yourself licking your lips, suddenly feeling rather hungry. You could see him beginning to squirm yet he was adamant not to budge. A wolfish laugh escaped you as you plunged your fingers under his shirt to dance on his stomach before your teeth finally met his skin.

The last thing you heard was a sharp gasp that sounded like absolute heaven before your world turned on its axis. Your back met the ground with a thud and you suddenly realised you couldn’t move. Casually taking a quick glance, you craned your neck to see two calloused fists handcuffing your wrists and pinning them above your head. You looked up to finally see a panting Osamu, glaring at you.

“Oi.”

You blinked.

Osamu was every shade of grey. Every expression, every movement, although a little rough, it was done with minimal effort and restrained. He was always in control and always composed. He was a little slow and sluggish like that, but he could become a dynamic black, cool and confident whenever you pluck just the right strings.

Which is why it was all the more endearing to see a lovely peach pink speckling on his cheeks.

“What,” he breathed out, as if he had just sprinted in a marathon, you could see his torso trembling, “do ya think yer doin’?”

You watched him placidly and couldn’t stop admiring the pretty colour on his cheeks. You wanted to capture it, burn it in your memory until your final breath. You wanted to paint it, to smear the red all over his grey. You licked your lips.

“I told you, didn’t I? That you would be in trouble if I came back to find you sleeping. So pray tell, what were you doing, ‘Samu?” you purred beneath him, a playful smirk crawling to your lips as you felt a pooling sensation bubble in the pit of your stomach.

Osamu’s eyes widened and even though he had overcast a shadow on the both of you, you could tell that his cheeks had darkened. He suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights and he could no longer meet your gaze. With an agonisingly slow movement, he tentatively released one of your wrists to feel the back of his neck.

“D-did you . . .?” he stammered, not able to bring himself to finish the question.

Picking on what he was insinuating, using your left hand, now free, you roughly grabbed him by the collar before pulling him down. He yelped like a puppy that had lost its footing, as he lurched forward like a tidal wave, almost tumbling over, quickly stamping his free hand to the ground, stopping him from knocking his head into your as you curled your finger under his chin.

“No, I didn’t. I warned you though, right? If you try to fall asleep again when I’m teaching you. . .” you slur, tracing your finger, teasingly let it tap on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his eyes now wide awake and focused only on you as you grinned hungrily.

“I’ll decorate your neck with hickies until you’ve got a goddamn necklace of bruises.”

Osamu shuddered as he fell to his elbows, barely holding himself up. Feeling his voice shake, he meekly nodded, trying to hide his arousal as he shakily—but briskly—flew back to the kotatsu, promptly hiding his face from you, just like a mouse.

You bit your lip, grinning wildly at the ceiling which although, was completely uninteresting, was the only excuse you had to not let him see your dorky smile.

‘HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED. Reading all those fanfics and manga finally paid off!’

You can’t let yourself come off as too desperate though. You realised that you had been waving the stick in front of him for too long now, it was time to finally bring out the carrot.

You propped yourself, being deliberately slow as to keep him waiting before you tenderly held onto his shoulder. You could feel him tense you brushed your nose against the lobe of his ear, your wispy breaths dyeing it pink as you whispered:

“When we’re done, I promise, you can eat whatever you want.”

While he didn’t fall asleep and actually got some proper studying in afterwards, perhaps it was him being petty or a vain attempt to gain back some control, he did not offer you his dick but went straight for the fridge to get some pudding. Still, it didn’t change the fact that you were hungry and Osamu found out that night that not only were you quite convincing yourself but you also really liked turning his neck red.

Hmm. And you called him a fox.

[davidmann95]

So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe Podcast: The Fantasy of Steven Universe

This is an outline of the Steven Universe Podcast regarding “The Fantasy of Steven Universe”: an issue of the podcast in which the creators and writers discuss a multitude of deep issues, along with some Q&A from both fans and insiders. No volume number or episode number was given for this one. The official description:

It's the last new podcast episode of the season and we asked the cast and Cartoon Network Executive team to submit questions to Steven Universe creator Rebecca Sugar and former Executive Producer Ian Jones-Quartey! They tackle everything from design to wormholes to escapism to advice to your younger self and dreaming big. Then former writers Matt Burnett and Ben Levin sit down with Rebecca to discuss lessons learned, achieving goals, and what they hope people take away from the show. And finally, Kat Morris and Joe Johnston return to answer a last batch of Fan Q&A!

This is a long podcast with a long summary, so as usual I will give you a bulleted list of highlights, followed by a detailed summary.

Highlights:

Many of the show’s themes and important elements were there right from the beginning--all the way back to the pilot.

Rebecca Sugar comments that she didn’t really learn how to have fun until 2016.

Figuring out how to pace the show out and reveal each piece of information at the right time so it could support another later revelation was very exciting to the writers. They had the pieces laid out like a puzzle on their table.

Mostly self-contained episodes still gave the audience a piece of information or represented growth for a character. The less “plotty” episodes helped keep the energy up.

The Crewniverse knew that their titles were sometimes trollish, but Ben was honestly surprised that people expected apocalyptic happenings for “Last One Out of Beach City.” It was just a Less Than Jake reference.

Rebecca really enjoyed getting the chance to “damsel” Greg for the Zoo arc; she really wanted to use a lot of princess tropes, even that one.

Viewers should take away from the show messages of compassion, self-love leading to ability to connect with others, ability to understand and listen to others, and opportunities to see themselves as well as to see others.

Rebecca has drawn all of Fluorite’s component Gems, but all she’ll say is “they’re fun.”

Lars and Lion are not immortal, but they will live for a very long time and have slowed-down lifespans. Kat Morris says Lars may have no sense of taste; that if he eats it’s just for sustenance.

Lars has all the same powers as Lion. He can indeed do a sonic blast and make portals and walk on water. They weren’t able to work this into an episode we’ve seen, but Rebecca assures us that Lars will discover his abilities and it will be “really funny.”

The Crew had specific voice actors they wanted for the Diamonds. They got who they wanted cast by writing excited letters. Susan Egan’s was particularly weird because she had to play Tiny Floating Whale first.

Blue Diamond was the most difficult Diamond to design because her hair was hard to decide on. Rebecca’s influences for her were Martha Graham’s “Lamentation” dance and Fruma Sarah’s ghost from Fiddler on the Roof.

Yellow Diamond was mostly directly inspired by Patti LuPone’s performance as Evita.

White Diamond was influenced by many old-timey vibes, including Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfeld Girl and the artistry of Nell Brinkley. She had heavy eyelashes and fingernails--lots of design elements they did not incorporate into other characters, so she could adhere to old, “stifling” beauty standards.

Rebecca was disappointed that reveals of Pink’s full jester-like outfit got out before we saw it in the show. Her hair was originally higher in early designs, which contributed to her mural having spikier hair.

Greg is based almost entirely on Tom Scharpling; Rebecca was comforted by his voice when she had upheavals in her life. There’s also a little bit of inspiration from various Crewniverse dads in him.

Another Gem could have a hybrid child like Steven only if they had enough power to do it and the complete commitment to the idea that Pink had.

Steven and his “Gem self” are not really separable and can’t exist independently of each other. His Gem half will not remain if his organic half dies. They are one being. He will likely have a very long life because of his Gem powers, but (though the Crew agrees this is grim), he will probably die before the Gems do.

The Jade Fusion won’t be in trouble anymore once the Jades come out of their bubbles; in Era 3, the act they were punished for is no longer disallowed. However, the trauma of being isolated and then punished as soon as they felt it was safe to fuse may require some healing. Rebecca assures us they should be able to have the opportunity to heal and be okay.

Obsidian definitely has future vision powers. In fact, they’re expanded to the point that the noise is difficult to interpret; very powerful, but difficult to get anything useful with them.

Pearl became a more maternal character because of her voice actor, Deedee Magno Hall, being “such a mom.”

Zach Callison as Steven was so genuine and professional to work with, and the vibe in the booth with regard to him was closely mirrored in the show.

Sometimes Deedee’s or Michaela’s ways of interacting with Zach would influence how Pearl or Amethyst would interact with Steven.

People would give lots of space and reverence to Estelle when she was reading her lines, which parallels how the other characters treat Garnet.

Only Steven can take anyone or anything through the pink space connected to Lars’s hair and Lion’s mane, but yes, Steven could take Lars through Lion’s mane, and if he stuck his head out, there’d be infinite Larses sticking out of infinite Lars’s hair until he pulled his head back in.

Designing new characters requires lots of back and forth and hundreds of drawings. Rebecca asks “why,” not “what”--why are you including something in a character’s design? If it doesn’t contribute to who they are, why is it there?

Influences on the show that may have been missed by some fans include G.I. Joe the animated series, Future Boy Conan, and Mr. Bug Goes to Town.

In response to Deedee requesting a fusion between Pearl and any of Rebecca’s childhood favorite cartoons, she suggests maybe either Bart or Detective Conan, then says she’ll have to think about it and get back to Deedee.

Advice Rebecca Sugar might have given her younger self was that it would be okay and she’d get to tell the story she wanted to tell--but also that she should eat, drink water, and exercise.

One profound thing Rebecca learned while working on the show was that she can be out and bisexual regardless of who she’s with, and that it DOES matter.

One profound thing Ian learned while working on the show was that the story you want to tell doesn’t have to be constrained by the medium--and your fantasy story isn’t necessarily someone else’s fantasy. You can tell your story.

The detailed summary is below!

[Archive of Steven Universe Podcast Summaries]

McKenzie kicks the podcast into gear and starts by asking Rebecca Sugar, Matt Burnett, and Ben Levin about the intentions for the show: what did they think it was going to be, and did it end up being that?

Ben shares an anecdote about how their agent seemed to have thought Steven Universe was based on Rebecca's comic Pug Davis, but then they saw the animatic and it was completely different from what the agent described. Matt felt that the themes and certain important elements of the show were already there from the animatic at the beginning. They were excited to see the show even if they might not end up getting to work on it, and they could tell just from the pilot that there was a lot of mythology to be unearthed. One of Ben's expectations that did not pan out was that he thought there would be more dungeon crawling episodes, but that was not the reality because . . . it turns out episodes like that are really difficult to do.

As for Rebecca, she says she had many goals for the show, and one thing she likes to do with projects is make them about something she hasn't truly figured out yet. The big thing for Steven Universe in Rebecca's mind was the issue of gendered cartoons for children. She felt uncomfortable growing up, because socially she was expected to like what girls like but her favorite things were "for boys," while "girl" cartoons did NOT appeal to her. She felt guilty and weird about it, and so with her cartoon she wanted to attack that at first, use and scramble the language others had used to put her in that position. As she worked on Steven Universe more, she realized that some of the things she wasn't allowed to love as a kid were things she DID love. Learning to understand herself better allowed her to build a better relationship with the symbols and elements of children's cartoons that she could have authentic feelings about. She feels she learned a lot.

Next, McKenzie wants to know which episodes were the most fun to write (or throw ideas around for).

Rebecca quips that she did not learn to have fun until 2016.

Ben says he and Matt had fun though. Their job was to take Rebecca's ideas and figure out how to squeeze her thoughts into 11 minutes. Ben thought it was important to reveal something new about a focus character in each episode. Rebecca thought it was exciting to pace out what to reveal when; she says all the elements were on the table "like a giant puzzle." They had to carefully place when we would understand each thing as the audience before they could do something that built on it. She felt it was "like painting a picture across time." You couldn't do something like "Change Your Mind" at the beginning--you needed all those pieces to get it at all.

Putting yourself in the audience's mind as a writer is important, Ben says. Infodumping doesn't work, and laying the groundwork before you start a story isn't the best way to make a story meaningful. Matt thinks the big story payoffs at the end of season 5 were discussed in the first two weeks of planning, and they all thought it would be so cool to finally get there.

The things that were the most fun were actually the deviations from those stories, though they kept with the themes. The "random idea" episodes that felt more like one-offs were responsible for keeping the energy up, according to Matt. "Steven and the Stevens," for instance, was pretty self-contained (and needed a diagram to keep it together). Rebecca points out that "self-contained" episodes were mostly the goal, but you'd still see a change in the character or get an important piece of information in each one. Steven is LITERALLY not the same character anymore after "Steven and the Stevens."

Weaving the "infodump" stuff into Steven's personal growth was important for the type of story they were writing. They also joke about how certain episode titles were very trollish, like "Last One Out of Beach City" and "Rising Tides, Crashing Skies." (Both of those were definitely NOT "apocalyptic" at all.) They were aware that titles could send a message, but Ben was actually really surprised at the expectations surrounding "Last One Out of Beach City" because for him it was just a Less Than Jake reference. ^___^

They also enjoyed getting to do whole new environments with mini-worldbuilding, like the human zoo. The zoo arc comes up and Rebecca remarks on how much she enjoyed "damseling Greg." She really wanted to do pretty much every princess trope in some way, even that one, and she just loved having the opportunity to have Blue carry Greg away "just like Peach."

McKenzie next asks the group what's something they want people who have watched the whole show so far to come away with at this point.

Ben says he's not sure about others, but he feels the show lets us take home messages of being in touch with your genuine feelings and expressing what they are. Matt agrees with Ben about how the show helps viewers learn to see others' perspectives. They hope people had the opportunity to see themselves represented on the show, and that some people got the opportunity to see representations of people they'd never seen before--and that those people who were newly exposed to folks they'd never thought about before would learn to be more compassionate.

Rebecca wants people to come away with the notion that they must learn to love themselves. That it is close to impossible to connect with others if you haven't learned how to love yourself. Kids deserve to be able to express themselves as long as they aren't destroying themselves or others in the process. She thinks sometimes kids are sent destructive messages about how it isn't okay to be themselves, and that people they trust might be shutting them down, but this show is a message to say it's wrong of them to do that and they deserve the freedom to be who they are and say so. Being allowed to talk about how you feel shouldn't be some kind of fantasy. It should be reality.

The next segment of the podcast involves Kat Morris and Joe Johnston answering fan questions with Rebecca Sugar!

Q: Has there been any thought as to what Fluorite's Gem components are?

A: Joe just immediately says "NO" and Kat teases him, but Rebecca speaks up and says of course she has drawn them all. She gave it to Colin and then says "I don't know where it went." The only thing Rebecca is willing to say about it is "they're fun."

Q: Are Lars and Lion immortal now? Or is their aging process just extremely slowed down?

A: Kat agrees that their aging process is just slow. About as slow as Lars's heartbeat in "Lars' Head." Kat points out that she and Joe have disagreements about what Lars's life is like. She thinks Lars probably lost his sense of taste and only just eats occasionally to sustain his body. Rebecca says "they'll live a really, really long time," and Kat says "longer than they'll want to."

Q: Can Lars do the Lion roar warp thing, or does he have his own power?

A: Kat says he can! They tried to write stories around it but never quite did it. Kat jokes that he can do it if maybe he gets tickled or something. Joe says he can make a warp and he can make a sonic blast with his voice. When they discuss whether he's figured that out yet, Rebecca replies that he WILL figure it out at some point, and when he does, "it'll be REALLY funny. Don't worry about it." They speculate that maybe that's how Lars was getting around doing space pirate stuff (infiltrating the Citrine asteroid and the Cosmic Jubilee), but there's also the fact that he doesn't have a Gem and can't be scanned. They also specify that Lars can indeed walk on water.

Q: Does Lion have the ability to sense Steven somehow? Or did he find Watermelon Steven some other way?

A: Rebecca claims they're in tune, but you can't really pinpoint whether it's magic or whether it's just that animal sense some pets have.

Q: How did you pick the Diamonds' voice actresses?

A: Kat says, "begging?" Rebecca says they knew who they wanted and they agree they wrote passionate letters. Rebecca tells the story of bringing Susan Egan in to do Rose's voice for the first time, but the first time you hear her voice was coming out of the Tiny Floating Whale. Susan did the little "ooo!" noise for it as well as the one line that's spoken in "Rose's Room." She had to explain that Rose was very important later, but for now she just wanted Susan to come voice the whale.

Q: Which Diamond was the most difficult to design? Which was the most fun to design?

A: Rebecca says Blue was the most difficult to design. They took a long time deciding on her hair and what would be "inhuman" about her, and there was a lot of trial and error involved. They actually revealed her cloaked form in "The Answer" before they figured out her hair. Rebecca feels that White might have been the most fun because they had to incorporate so many influences. They're all really influenced by tons of things though: for instance, Blue is influenced by a Martha Graham dance ("Lamentation") and the ghost (Fruma Sarah in a dream) from Fiddler on the Roof.

Yellow is very inspired by Patti LuPone in Evita.

White is inspired by Nell Brinkley and Hedy Lamarr (in Ziegfeld Girl)--the aesthetic of the time, really.

White has many design elements that other characters don't have. The heavy eyelashes, the fingernails, the "perfect thigh gap"--she's supposed to be very different from the others, with "beauty standards" that you haven't seen on other characters, meant to be read as stifling and old. She's even on an actual pedestal with shoes that are actual pedestals.

For Pink, Rebecca describes it as "kind of devastating" that even though we'd gotten the first reveal of Pink when she punched a mirror in Stevonnie's dream and was "contorted with rage," the audience got to see her on a model sheet with her full outfit "looking like a little clown" and people kind of got it instantly. Designs for the Diamonds go back to 2014, though Pink's hair was a little different and "looks like a Truffula tree" according to Rebecca. (Joe says that's why her mural looked spikier, because the early hair designs for Pink were higher.) Rebecca was really excited when they nailed down Pink's hair to look like Steven's hair. Rebecca was excited but Kat was scared.

Q: What inspired you to make Greg?

A: Tom Scharpling! Rebecca used to always listen to Tom's radio show (The Best Show) toward the end of college and she based Greg's character on him. She says Tom is currently doing a thing where he's reviewing every episode of Friends. She felt that during a tumultuous time in her life, moving from New York to LA and being apart from Ian, Tom's voice was a constant and a comfort. On his show, Tom is "more cynical" than Greg, but she describes him as only being mean to meanness, and that even when he's mean it's a "force for good in the world." Being angry is fine as long as you're directing it at other things that are mean, helping to cancel them out. She finds Tom inspiring, and thinks Greg is sort of the result of that cancelled-out meanness. Rebecca also adds that Greg has a lot of her own father in him, and she believes the other Crewniverse folks probably pull in elements of their own dads to write him.

Q: Would another half-Gem/half-human fusion like Steven be possible for another Gem besides Pink Diamond?

A: Pink Diamond couldn't fuse with humans--Steven's unique that way. Pink obviously created Steven (not through fusion), but now Steven is the result of that process and he exists sort of as a bridge. He can fuse with humans because of his humanity, not because of his Gem. He would actually be able to pull other humans into his Fusions with Gems, but he'd have to be there to preserve that connection.

Joe interprets the question a little differently, saying he thinks they're asking whether another hybrid might be possible, and Rebecca says it'd be possible only for a Gem as committed to it as Rose was. She specifies that Rose obviously had the immense power of a Diamond as well as that dedication, so if some other Gem that had a similar level of power and a similar interest in creating an organic child wanted to do it, okay, they could.

Q: If Steven were to die of old age, what would happen to his Gem half?

A: Joe hates this question. Rebecca agrees "that's so grim." She says that Steven is Steven, and he is NOT Steven when he's broken into two pieces. There isn't one without the other. Kat thinks Steven wouldn't die unless he chose to (and might do that if everyone he cared about was gone). Joe apparently hates existential questions and Rebecca sort of comforts him saying the Gems will live and live and live, and that Steven will probably die before them so he won't have to be stranded alive with no friends left.

Q: Is the Jade Fusion from "Together Alone" okay?

A: Yes, she's fine! Rebecca says she got poofed like many other characters have been before, and probably bubbled for what they were doing, but in Era 3 what they were doing is no longer wrong. They will emerge and be allowed to be themselves. Rebecca says, though, that there's also a question of whether they're okay as a person, and that what they went through is really hard to go through. She felt so isolated all that time, and then as soon as they got the courage to emerge in front of other people for the first time they were punished for it, so in that sense she's really kinda not okay. She will have opportunities to heal from her traumas, though, and her future is bright.

Q: Does Obsidian have future vision powers?

A: Rebecca says "Yes" decisively. The others chime in to agree. Rebecca says Obsidian's powers are overwhelming and difficult to handle all at once, though with many components they also have support handling it. The future vision Obsidian experiences is so overwhelming it's almost worthless because it's like noise--it's expanded and cacophonous.

Next, Ian and Rebecca are answering questions submitted by the cast and Crewniverse!

Q (from Zach Callison): What aspects of the characters are inspired by the voice actors?

A: Rebecca says the biggest one is how Pearl became more maternal because of Deedee's influence. She's "such a mom."

The interaction of the cast in the room worked its way into the characters' interaction. She also says Steven's growth from childish to mature for his age came from Zach growing up with him. She describes him as professional, insightful, thoughtful--enough such that adults could take cues from him or aspire to be like him. Ian thinks Zach was really interested in the process and very open to learning from other actors. Steven as an empathetic character was enhanced by Zach's genuine personality. Others who worked with him would be inspired and excited by him, which worked for the authenticity of Steven's vibe too.

Rebecca also noticed that sometimes Michaela or Deedee would cheer Zach up or egg him on, and the way they did those things differently also informed the characters of Amethyst and Pearl when they'd be in similar situations with Steven. They also noticed that if Estelle was there for a recording, everyone would stop and give her space to do her thing, which turned out to be very appropriate for how the others act with Garnet sometimes.

Q (from Matthew Moy): Can Lars go through Lion's mane and vice versa? Would they just fall right back out if they entered?

A: Rebecca points out that she actually answered this recently on the Reddit AMA! First, she wants folks to remember that Steven is the only one who can bring anyone or anything through mane space. Yes, Steven could take Lars into Lion's mane and go over to Lars's tree, but if Lars were to stick his head through the grass there, Lars's head would come out of his own hair. But this would cause infinite Larses to come out of infinite Lars's Heads, until he pulled his head back out.

Q (from Estelle): When you come up with new characters, how much time do you spend revamping the look of each?

A: It's a lot of time. Hundreds of drawings. Ian describes a process of coming up with early characters who didn't have a spot in the story yet, and they'd come up with random looks for them, and then they'd narrow down what specifically that character would need when they learned where they would go. Elements that mean something are retained and elements that do not mean anything will be swapped out. Boarders and designers would all take a crack at the design afterwards. Rebecca says that by the time boarding is happening, they need the character's "shape language" to be nailed down. Rebecca also mentions that many designs just get shelved if they're not really working, like some of the designs for Sardonyx did from before Rebecca realized Sardonyx would be a bombastic nerd, not a stoic and imposing presence. Even after they discovered that, though, the tooth gap was a later addition. Rebecca finds it helpful to ask "why" instead of "what" in design. Why is someone designed the way they are? Everyone will work together to create a design that blends form and function. She usually starts with rough sketches that they'll build off of as a starting point.

Q (from Michaela Dietz): With all the references to other shows (Gurren Lagann, Adventure Time, Revolutionary Girl Utena, etc.), what's a reference fans may have missed?

A: Since they pull from SO many places, it's hard to say, but Ian points out Future Boy Conan (Rebecca identifies a scene where the Quartzes run through Pink Diamond's body as a particular scene that's similar), and Rebecca says the rainbow worm from the Kyanite Colony is inspired by Orbitty (from the 80s Jetsons) and other ugly aliens from the time that were influenced by E.T. Rebecca points out Mr. Bug Goes to Town, an obscure film that nobody really watched because it came out on D-Day. Then Ian mentions the G.I. Joe animated series, how they referenced "It's all a fake-a-roo!" from that. And "Frybo" was a reference to The Thing.

Q (from Deedee Magno Hall): If Pearl could fuse with one of Rebecca's childhood cartoon favorites, who would it be, what would their weapon be, and can we see a drawing?

A: Rebecca says this is REALLY hard because she liked so many cartoons, but she just throws out Bart. Their Fusion would have a skateboard with spikes on the front. Maybe the Fusion would be named Part or Bearl. Or maybe Detective Conan; the Fusion would have all those gadgets. She decided she'd have to keep thinking about it and she'll give Deedee an answer.

Q (from Conrad Montgomery): If you could go back in time to give yourself a bit of advice as you started on "Gem Glow" and the rest of the series, what would it be?

A: Rebecca says she would tell herself to drink more water and exercise, and don't forget to eat. She thinks maybe she would tell herself it was going to be okay, because she didn't know that at the time. She says it may have been helpful at the beginning if she could have known she'd get to finish the story she wanted to tell. She was always anxious that her show would be yanked and she wouldn't get to finish what she'd dreamed up, but she did. She also feels like she was so young at 25 to be doing what she was doing, and maybe she'd like to just turn herself into a 31-year-old.

Ian thinks the show became what it was because of what they were learning along the way, though. If you really could tell people ahead of time what the things they're making are going to turn out like, you don't get to understand the process of something coming back wrong and learning how to deal with that. They feel that created a lot of what was good about the show, the debates and discussions. Rebecca is not sure she would have just said "trust yourself" because sometimes she trusted her team and was grateful for it.

Q (from Rob Sorcher): What is the one most profound thing you learned about yourself as a result of making the series?

A: Rebecca says she didn't understand she could be bisexual and be out. She thought declaring your orientation was about who you were with, not about who YOU were. So even though she was telling stories that spoke to feelings she'd had about partners or potential partners who were NOT Ian, she didn't realize she could claim that and care about that, mostly due to the fact that she'd been repeatedly and strongly told it did not matter. But it does matter. How you feel about yourself and how you experience attraction is a relevant and important thing to be able to embrace. She felt like she was "insane, all the time" because she wasn't supposed to talk about it or was told it wasn't interesting. She was floored when people she had connections with still wanted to be friends with her after she started talking about it, and being open about this aspect of herself has made being alive much easier.

If something matters to you, it matters, period. In terms of cartoons, the incredibly gender-segregated way they were doled out to kids in the 80s and 90s had an effect on Rebecca, and for a long time she didn't know why she so desperately wanted to "scramble" that. She finally found ways to discuss how uncomfortable she was being told that she had to be a woman when she was not. She realized through making her cartoon that though she had plenty of wells to pull from, this particular well was one she hadn't been able to speak about, so she did it through this medium and chose this as one of her stories. It's certainly not the only one she has to tell. She reiterates that she is bisexual and nonbinary, and though the language for that might change in the future, "that's what's going on" with her.

Ian's "profound thing" was that he realized you can share a message without being limited by the expected confines of your medium. For example, he knows that if he claims to be making a science fiction/fantasy cartoon, people will have preconceived notions of what that means, but maybe for some people, a major fantasy is just being told it's okay to be who they are, or living in a world where being who they are is okay. You don't have to worry about whether your reasons for making this art will satisfy someone else's reasons for watching it. Rebecca agrees, and says other people's "escapist" fantasies seemed really one-dimensional to her, never satisfying what SHE would like to escape to, but she realized she'd been holding contempt for escapism in general because of that, which dissolved when she was able to explore hers. There is a place for her, there is a dream she can have, and she no longer resented other people for having theirs. Sometimes a fantasy is about even getting to dream in the first place instead of just being fed these ideas of what you're supposed to want.

Everyone should get to have a dream and say it out loud.

[Archive of Steven Universe Podcast Summaries]

[raviposting]

don't get u started on... sense 8

Ohhhhhh man. What a show. Did it make the most sense? I’m going to be honest, no, it really, really didn’t. Did it have some missteps along the way? Absolutely. Do I think they should have been more clear on sexualities, even if it were to say that for these characters, sexuality was fluid? A thousand percent. Was it a beautiful work of art? Definitely. 

I always felt like it was one of those shows that got a lot of....hm how to word this. You know when very diverse content, oftentimes written by diverse authors, tends to be looked at more critically than content that isn’t, and held up to infinitely higher standards? I feel like that was what Sense8 was like, and I know it for sure wasn’t perfect but I also feel like a lot of criticisms came from that mindset rather than the view of genuine crit or trying to view the intentions as ill-intentioned or assuming certain racial depictions were stereotypes. Like the amount of times I saw people calling Kala a “bad” Indian stereotype only to list things that I heavily related to and experienced as an Indian person and then seeing that they were usually written by white folks (or the occasional brown person who assumed bc it wasn’t their experience it was now bad) was like...a lot, lmao.  

The show was fantastic and gone too soon, the whole theme of it being about genuine human connection was just..so fantastic. There were so many different dynamics that I loved, and I loved how they could go from sexual to romantic to platonic to some forms in between. The whole idk, vibe? Was just beautiful and fantastic and just. Genuinely a work of art. If I heard a show was going to have multiple orgies I would never ever imagine it being so absolutely beautiful as it was shot in Sense8 lmao. I so wish we got the 5 seasons that the sisters had planned for (and maybe even seeing a slow buildup to Rajalagang if that’s what they were planning) but I’m also always grateful for the show we got. <3 

send me “don’t get me started on” + a random topic and i‘ll answer with a rant about it

[hypexion]

A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 2)

Part two of me posting a bunch of “OCs“, since actually working out a better way to organise and present is this information is clearly too much effort. Despite the fact I’m putting what could be charitably described as an amount of work into these posts.

The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.

Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!

Okay

Not everyone is actively Heroic, and that’s okay. Generally, this lot might not want to help you out, but they’re unlikely to ruin your day just for the sake of it. Of course, some might offer to help if their skills are a match for the situation, or if they stand to benefit. And some of them might be a little rude, but they generally won’t murder you.

Ferroxi - BGU, Faerie Artificer, ? - While other fae are luring you around in circles, trapping you in an eternal sleep, or stealing your name, Ferroxi is probably rummaging through your recycling looking for useful stuff. Born on a plane piled with interplanar scrap, she learned at a young age the value in taking things apart and occationally putting them back together again. Ferroxi sees the wastefulness of other planes as her gain, and is always on the look out for anything that can be fixed up, melted down or repurposed. This doesn’t stop at the physical, either. With a bit of work, she’s managed to keep a few Infinite Consortium cells spinning, as a way to provided access to resources she’d otherwise have trouble obtaining. Ultimately, Ferroxi brings her finds back to her clan, where she is considered a peerless salvager, able to seemingly conjure resources from nothing.

Ferroxi has hair she self-describes as “rust coloured“ and brown skin. Being a Faerie, she’s just over a foot tall. But don’t underestimate her. Just because her weapon of choice looks like a sewing needle, it doesn’t mean it can’t hurt you. Of course, she also has access to all the various fae tricks, so getting into a fight with her is generally going to end her favour. Just let Ferroxi have your old lightbulbs, okay? When she planeswalkers, she disappears into a puff of rust dust. Don’t breath that! (Generally you shouldn’t breath planeswalking auras, but the metal oxides to be especially avoided.)

Hits: Recycling, Izzet technology, Moxen, white and gold bordered cards. Misses: Izzet security, large animals, things that can’t be repaired or reused.

Mazamat - UB, Human Wizard, Akkyria - For Mazamat, death is merely a setback. After each defeat she rises again, a new body forged from mana in her ziggurat. As a mortal scholar, her fame was not enough to enjoy the immortality Akkyria offered it’s most renowned. So through careful research, she discovered an alternative, a way to tie her life force to the leylines that shaped her world. She divised a ritual, and performed it to perfection. And in seeking eternal life, she found something far greater. For Mazamat was born long before The Mending. Her ignition gave her powers beyond bound. Even with a fractional of her strength sequestered as an anchor for her soul, Mazamat was a force to be reckoned with. She mastered lifetimes of magics, slew gods, and accidentally created a few highly dangerous artifacts. Unfortunately, even without meeting Urza, Mazamat was affect by his ruinous influence. The Mending weakened her. Enough that it was now the majority of her strength that anchored her to Akkyria. This made planewalking fatal. But for Mazamat, death is merely a setback. No Lich forgets their Phylactery, and Mazamat did not forget the mechanics of her undeath. While the first sucessful test walk only worked because of the Interplanar Beacon, it provided Mazamat all she needed to write a new ritual, and continue her endless study.

Often, Mazamat isn’t hard to miss. It’s difficult to ignore the walking corpse with glowing purple eyes, even you’d prefer to. She could put more effort into looking presentable, given her wide magical knowledge, but generally considers it optional. When she does wish to tidy up her appearance, she tends to appear as she did in the middle of her mortal life. In this case, she has brown skin and grey-black hair, which she ties back into a bun to get it out of the way. She also dampens the eye-glow effect, although they still take on a purple hue. Mazamat tends to dress in the classical “Robed Wizard“ look, ardorned with various magical symbols. Mazamat’s planeswalking effet is a pulse of pale blue light, occationally leaving behind short-lived inscriptions on nearby surfaces.

Hits: Mastering skills, advising adventurers (who bring the appropriate tribute), a kind of savory cake served with honey and dried fruits. Misses: Dying (it’s still not fun, even if you come back), Nicol Bolas, Urza, whoever started the rumor that flying snakes could be found near her ziggurat, because now she can’t get rid of the things, being stuck on a plane.

Pyrolas - R, Dragon, Ithmorne - Many planeswalkers are subtle. Many are careful. Pyrolas is neither, because Pyrolas is a red dragon. When presented with a problem, they consider fire and fury to be an acceptable solution. As dragons go, Pyrolas is considered implusive and quick to act. This is good for the non-dragons living with their domain, as it means Pyrolas tends to deal with problems such as bandits within a week. Meaning you might actually have a home to go back to. Pyrolas is also less than interested in the ever-shifting politics of the Draconic Confedracy, prefering to get their excitement from visting other planes, or comissioning sweet new artworks. Like many dragons on their homeplane, Pyrolas graciously allows non-dragons to use the singular they when referring to them. This is nice, because in Ithmorne Draconic, pronouns are also honorifics, and using the wrong one can range from “slightly rude“ to “mortal insult“ (it’s also nice because some of them are very hard to pronounce if you aren’t a dragon).

Dragons on Ithmorne tend towards being more slender, and Pyrolas is no exception. However, unlike a certain dragon whose name has been misplaced, they all still look dragony. Pyrolas has red scales, except on the underside of their wings, where they are a more goldish colour. Since they’re a dragon, they don’t carry weapons. Rather, Pyrolas is the weapon, capable of spewing flame, clawing rocks to pieces and able to crush puny humanoids in their grasp. Thankfully, Pyrolas is a kind of “take it easy“ dragon, so you need to try pretty hard to provoke them. When they planeswalk, flames pour from their mouth and engulf them, followed by Pyrolas disappearing. This takes a little while, so they tend to do it while flying out of the way of danger.

Hits: Flying around, treasure, the fine arts, hosting tournements. Misses: Really cold places, dragon slayers, missing out on the chance to claw Bolas in his stupid dumb face, that time they went to Ixalan.

Tanzor - GUR, Shapeshifter, ? - Do you ever wonder how the multiverse fits together? Tanzor does, and they've embarked on the most ambitious planar cartography projection in the multiverse to work it out. Of course, along the way, they’ve picked up a number of other projects. These include subjects such as planar topology, monitoring aether currents, and tracking planes that have been inflicted by Phyrexians (thanks, Karn). Most recently, Tanzor has been investigating the aftershocks from the deaths of Kozilek and Ulamog, and the appearance of temporal anomalies around Tarkir. And with the possibility of more Planar Bridges being constructed, they could soon have a whole new set of issues on their hands. Or claws. Or tentacles. When you’re a changeling, it’s sometimes hard to keep track. When in doubt, check what the person you’re reflexively copying has. (When in a group of three or more people, Tanzor generally exerts concious control over their shapeshifting, as not to freak people out).

Describing Tanzor’s physical appearance is difficult, since as a changeling, it tends to shift around a lot. When changing form, it appears that their underlying changeling colour is dark blue, however. For simplicity, let’s just say they’re friend-shaped. When Tanzor planeswalkers, their form dissippates, and they appear to collapse into a single point.

Hits: Being able to be anything, wings/fins/toxins on demand, high vantage points, advanced eyeball techniques. Misses: Being asked why they can’t shapeshift into a form that isn’t injured, Phyrexians, whoever was the latest one to screw up the multiverse (currently: Bolas, previously: Gatewatch, Ugin/Sarkhan, and others).

Xand - BR, Human Rogue, Ravnica - Xand likes to introduce himself as a cultist of wealth and taste. Which is not entirely inaccurate. He’s a member of the Cult of Rakdos, he’s got money to burn, and he’s very concerned about food. But don’t mistake Xand for some regular glutton, looking to gorge on endless plates of substandard junk. Xand has standards. Out of a dozen recipes, even after days of refinement, only a few will make it to the menu of his bar - which is an unusually “classy“ environment for a Rakdos run business. Sure, you won’t find any Azorius, Selesnya or Ozhov patrons there, and higher ranked guild members tend to avoid the it, but it’s a decent place to grab a meal or a drink. And for the fancier members of Ravnican society, there’s always Café Xand, which features table cloths, a wine list and a krasis of the day. And with the countless flavours of the multiverse available to him, Xand is always looking to expand the menu.

Xand has pale brown skin and shoulder-length black hair. Like any self-respecting Rakdos cultist, he dresses in loud, colourful robes, often patched together from previous robes that didn’t survive whatever manic Rakdos event Xand was last at. He also has a surprisingly well kept set of chef’s clothing, as likes to ensure only the right ingredients get used when he’s cooking. For personal defense (and offense), Xand carries knives. Lots of knives. Too many knives, perhaps, even when you factor in his excuse that “you never know when you might need to cut a cake, or dice some vegetables”.  He’s also pretty good at using Rakdos “hype magic” to disorient his foes, since it turns out that feeling a bunch of conflicting emotions at once is really distracting. When he planewalks, Xand disappears in a burst of dark flame, which leaves a pleasant, yet unidentifiable scent.

Hits: Good food, fine wine, various parties, visiting Valor’s Reach. Misses: Canibbalism, bar fights in his bar, Orzhov insurance rates, not being able to get the right spices, people calling him Alexander.

Look at all these nice...ish people. None of them would be into Gatewatching, but they’re also not making things worse. Tanzor might be willing to help out if they’re in the right place, and if you can appeal to her self-interest, Mazamat might teach you something useful. But with the others, their self-interest is probably going to overcome their altruism most of the time. Of course, the multiverse also has some rather more... antagonistic planewalkers, but that’s for next time.

[swiftlythebest]

28 for the cute meet please!

28. They ask you to pretend to be their date at a bar to prevent an ex from talking to them.

This one sort of had a mind of its own. I used to LOVE Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, so I definitely took some inspiration from that. It’s a bit longer so I put some of it under a cut. I hope you enjoy! 

Nico Kim was having a great night. He was at a nice new bar with some new friends in a city where he had just moved to start a new job. So it seemed almost impossible that Lucas could even be here. How could he be in Seattle, of all places? But then memories came rushing back: Lucas talking about a grandmother who lived in the Pacific Northwest and summers spent at her place. Suddenly, he felt like the one who didn’t belong. This was Lucas’s old stomping ground. He had real roots here, while Nico was some new transplant.

Lucas and Nico burned hot and fast. It was really great until it wasn’t. Lucas complained that Nico was too busy all the time; Nico complained that Lucas should respect his medical resident schedule. It ended in a spectacular blaze when Nico walked in on Lucas cheating on him with not one, but two men, both mutual friends. It was alarming and heartbreaking, causing Nico to storm out vowing to never let Lucas back into his life.

But here he was, eyes boring into Nico from across this random Seattle bar. Nico felt like he couldn’t breathe. Lucas rose, ready to make his way over to Nico, which prompted Nico to head to the bar, hoping to shake him off.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice came from his left. He turned and immediately stopped breathing, this time for an entirely different reason. This concerned man was the most beautiful sight Nico had ever seen. Short, with fluffy curls, bright eyes behind thick glasses, and the most adorable face he had ever seen.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend.” It came out before he could even truly think about it.

The man sputtered, “What?”

“Just… My name’s Nico. That guy making his way over here is my awful ex-boyfriend, and the only way to deter him is to look like I’m on a date. Please.” It was a solid plan. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but it was better than nothing.

“Oh. Okay. I’m Levi. By the way.” They shared bright smiles, before being interrupted by the voice Nico was dreading.

“Well, if it isn’t my handsome Nico.” Lucas slid into the spot next to Nico, looking him up and down with no hint of subtlety.

“I’m not yours, Lucas,” Nico practically spat. Levi, playing his character, laid a hand on Nico’s shoulder. It immediately spread warmth through him, calming him from the inside out. He placed a hand on top of Levi’s, anchoring him there. He took a deep breath, “I’m his.”

Levi gave an awkward wave from behind Nico, causing a grimace to bloom on Lucas’s face. “Him? Really? Wow, your standards dropped, didn’t they, pretty boy?”

Nico felt a surge of protectiveness as he gestured towards Levi, “Are you blind? Look at him!”

Lucas scoffed, “Yeah, and look at you. Nico, dear, you’re a straight up 10. You can do better than this… 7.”

“Oh, like you?” Nico and Lucas both whipped their heads towards Levi. “Let me guess. You’re some investment banker or consultant. Something that pays you a lot to be charming and kind of skeezy. You’ve been told you’re gorgeous your whole life, and your relationship with Nico was the first instance of someone not putting up with your bullshit because of your pretty face. Nail on the head?” Nico had never wanted to kiss someone so much in his whole life.

The smugness in Lucas’s smile faded, but he held his ground. “Oh, where’d you find this one, Nico? ComicCon? A D&D convention?”

“Cool insult. Yeah, I’m an obvious nerd, haven’t heard that one before,” Levi mumbled this response, eliciting a small laugh from Nico.

“I just moved here to start my fellowship at Grey + Sloan -”

“And I’m an intern there. We met at a mixer in preparation for his first day.” Nico could not believe his luck.

“Oh, so this is new. Untested. Hm. Remember when we were in that stage, Nico? We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Seems that spark isn’t as bright here.” The smugness was inching back in slowly.

“Actually, it turns out the spark can be white hot, and we can also have some level of discretion. Crazy, I know.” Nico almost felt like pointing out that the level of attraction he currently felt for Levi, after ten minutes, was so much higher than what he ever felt for Lucas. But that would mean blowing their cover.

“Discretion my ass,” Lucas scoffed.

“Fine!” Levi spun Nico around and bore his (bright, gorgeous) eyes into Nico’s, silently asking if this would be okay. Nico gave an almost imperceptible nod. Levi placed a hand on the back of his neck and slowly leaned up to join their lips.

It wasn’t some intense, heated kiss with lots of tongue and teeth. They were both very aware that they were in public and, despite the lie they were crafting, had met not ten minutes ago. It was short, but deep. Nico felt like his whole body was on fire, but a fire he never wanted to go out. He delicately cupped Levi’s cheek, pushing into the kiss slightly, like a promise of something more. Pulling back, Levi stared up at Nico with wide eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and a light blush.

Nico smiled, before turning back around to Lucas. He had clearly been expecting some steamy makeout, but the beauty of that kiss did not go unnoticed by him. Lucas inhaled deeply through his nose. “Okay. I see my attempts are futile at this point.”

Both stared at his retreating back in awe, having definitely expected to something more. “He… he left.”

Shifting his gaze to Levi, he saw triumphant surprise on his face. Nico laughed lightly. “Yeah, he did.”

“Um, so… I guess you’ll be going now.” Levi looked absolutely crushed at the prospect.

Nico raised his eyebrows. “After that kiss? You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Levi let out a gleeful, disbelieving laugh. Nico marveled at him, struck once again by how truly gorgeous this man was.

They spent the night talking, Levi giving Nico all the gossip on the hospital and tips on where to go in Seattle. Nico shared stories and advice from his internship and residency, Levi listening with rapt attention. As they were swapping childhood stories, the last call bell rang, snapping  them both out of their little bubble. After finishing their drinks, they exchanged numbers, and Nico helped Levi into his cab, giving him a small kiss as they parted ways; a promise that this, whatever it would be, was just beginning.

Send some meet cute prompts, if you want.

Also, just a bit of an update: I’m in the process of moving right now. So I may be posting and writing less this coming week. Just in case anyone cares.

[cloudbattrolls]

As She Made Us

Chimer Latrai | Dimasqa | Present Night

Heat soaks into your veins and bones like it’s trying to live in your cold body, nestle there like a meowbeast in a windowsill.

Civitrecce’s warm, but its tall buildings block out the sun. This place doesn’t have a thing over five stories; everything bigger got bombed all those sweeps ago, and whether through forbiddance or indifference, no one’s ever built things up again.

The city doesn’t need it anyway when it threads through the craters of the ancient blasts as well as on the surface around them. Bridges, psi-lifts, and riders on winged lusii calling out their fares are all happy to take a troll up or down if they can’t or don’t want to use their own feet.

I grew up in Dimasqa, after all.

A meaningless throwaway phrase, or maybe your ticket to figuring out more about the annoying little pissant of a blueblood and if possible, where they got their Chimera statue.

If your informants actually pointed you to someone helpful, that is, and if you don’t get trampled by one of the big beasts hauling supplies everywhere. Unlike your base city, this place isn’t much for tech, and you have to watch your step to avoid actual hoofbeastshit at points.

Disguised in a head covering, which thankfully doesn’t stick out much here (plenty of trolls wear them, especially women) you’re one of maybe five trolls above yellow you’ve seen so far, and three were greenbloods. It’s hard to imagine a pampered cobalt coming from a place like this.

But it wouldn’t make sense for them to lie in front of Yezule about their origin, not when Dimasqa’s about as well-regarded as toxic mold. No reputable troll ever admits to coming from here, and few do anyway.

If they’d wanted some primarily lowblood place to claim as their hivetown, there were infinitely better options.

Your periodic checks to see who’s following you through the winding, crumbling streets are rewarded with what’s probably a pack of muggers who aren’t doing a half-bad job as your shadows as they flit between living buildings and burned-out shells, keeping to the darkest shadows.

They’re smart enough to realize that someone of your height is almost certainly at least teal, and since there’s no identifying colors on your flowing gray and black clothing at all, it’s doubtful you have a higher caste quadrant who’d come looking for revenge.

Not bad at victim picking, girls and boys, but I’ve got better things to do tonight.

All blithe tourist curiosity and idle ease, you wander over to a weathered plaque with a trident engraved into it boasting about the Imperial eradication of the dangerous horrorterror worshippers and study its trilingual inscription intently.

“Turn around nice and easy, lady, and give us your caegers.”

You don’t bother turning around.

“Nah.”

With a flick of a remote you take out of your sylladex, a shimmering dome forcefield encloses the group of vagabonds -

- except the one placed on a wall several feet to the front of you, whose thrown dagger just clinked off your collarbone and bounced onto the stone with a clatter. Fortunately you’re covered with form-fitting body armor beneath your clothes, though the blade probably wasn’t tough enough to pierce fuchsia skin anyway.

You give them a look you know they can’t particularly well through the veil over your eyes, but it’s the thought that counts.

The stunned looking rustblood kid - you can’t tell if they’re brown or maroon, since they’re perched a few feet above you on that crumbling wall - scrabbles back down the blasted brick and runs until you and your long legs put a stop to that.

Picking them up by their shirt, you hold them out like a naughty baby meowbeast.

“Ok, I get this is a real disappointment for you, but if you could just - ”

A long string of curses in two different languages and spit on your face as they try to claw your eyes out makes you realize logic is only going to crash, burn, and leave behind more craters than the city has if you try it.

You shake them a little instead, not too hard, but enough to underline that you have highblood strength.

They go still, wide gray eyes frantically staring into yours. Sheesh, they can’t be older than seven. They’re a scrawny thing with flaky, stubby horns and clothing dustier than an abandoned basement.

You switch to Southern Desert Dialect from your usual Imperial Standard - you’re not very good at it, but you can get through a few sentences okay.

“Give me directions to the scribes’ market, and I’ll let you and your gang go. Or you can stay trapped.”

That’s probably the wrong form of that verb. The kid is certainly looking at you with a real sniffy expression.

You sigh. Everyone’s a critic.

They rattle off directions too fast for you to understand, and you have to make them repeat it twice - obnoxiously slow the second time  - before you can understand and write down what they said.

Once you’re a good bit away, trudging down a long, winding flight of stairs down the side of a crater, you release the field around them.

You didn’t actually need the directions, but keeping up appearances in front of any better class of stalker (a few of whom no doubt saw that exchange) matters, as well as not arousing too many suspicions; most trolls don’t just let aggressors off scot-free, even if their attacks had as much effect as a squeakbeast trying to fight a dragon.

If only you could’ve actually helped the kids, but any offers of money or food would be highly suspicious. With any sense at all they’d suspect poisoning or drugs - or counterfeit cash designed to get them arrested.

Even a small increase to the lowblood stipend system could reduce muggings so much. Trolls are violent, and some are assholes with no good reason to be, but you’ve had projections done by people who know statistics and economic caste inter-dynamics way better than you do. Your proposed growth of caeger allowances could cut maroon to yellow crime by 70% in most areas.

Wow that’s an ominous looking arch in the doorway of this building.

Your thoughts scatter as you gaze up at the black stone structure, which stands at least twelve feet tall. Weathered by time but free of the decay and ruin marking so much else around it, it’s covered by spiraling golden script.

Speak with care, say two of the script’s languages - you don’t recognize the third one, strange rough gashes and dots in dizzyingly complex combinations. Words bear the greatest weight.

Not an unusual warning, but your neck still prickles a little as you pass under its shadow.

You blink as you walk in, surprised by how bright it is - there’s a big hole in the roof three floors up, and in the floors between the ground and said hole - so pink and green moonlight is pouring through.

It takes a moment for you to notice the actual stalls stretching on the ground floor as far as you can see - it’s a big dang building, and while it’s much more subdued than where you’ve been so far, trolls still have quiet, heated discussions over paper or parchment, ink and printing molds. Most are covered up as you are, and it’s not hard to guess why.

In Dimasqa, owning the wrong texts is a death sentence.

Wait, doesn’t that gap let rain and wind get in, mess up the books? You look up, squinting in the light, since there’s no clouds to cover the moons. Then you realize - there’s a slight psiionic aura over the hole, white or yellow sparks. Someone must be controlling what passes through it.

“Looking for someone?”

You turn quick enough to nearly smack the person who’s sidled up behind you, your fins puffed up to the base of your horns.

“Jeez, could you give a lady a little warning? That’s my pumper calisthenics done for the night, thanks so much. I’m glad you care about my health, but next time, I could just do water yoga.”

Commodore Weirdo pauses as they appear to puzzle through this one, which gives you a moment to study them.

What you can see of them. Not only are they covered from head to toe, they don’t seem to have any horns, or else they’re the kind that curl down around the face instead of up. They don’t seem that big physically, but their clothing flares out behind them and to their sides so much it’s a wonder people aren’t tripping over them left and right.

Only the glint of white, glowing eyes behind the veil confirms it’s a person under there and not a really elaborate puppet.

“Sorry.” They reply, and while it’s fairly neutral in tone, it sounds genuine enough. “I thought you were more alert than that.”

“Got a little distracted.” You point at the hole.

They look up.

“Some texts can only be read in direct moonlight, or under certain stars. A few require the blinding sun, with dark lenses to protect the eyes. Yet others require special glasses to be seen.”

You’re about to give them shit for sounding like a video game character  - though their voice is oddly familiar in some way you can’t place - when they speak again in a more mundane tone.

“Also, we shoot the birds that fly in for food. So, how can I help you?”

“Are you the appointed tour guide? Where’s your dang name tag and badge, you fraud.”

They laugh, which is reassuring. If they’re trying to distract you while someone else sets up a hit, at least they enjoy your quality jokes.

A quick look around fails to locate any untoward interest in you. Everyone is occupied with their haggling or browsing, or curled up with a book in some corner. A few apprentices to what you assume is a master scribe are frantically copying down lines as their master barks at them, her monkey lusus adding its own mocking chitters.

You look up again for good measure, since any telekinetic worth their salt can float, but the higher stories are clear too.

“No one’s allowed to bloody up the stalls by attacking tourists. Bad for business, and the parchment sellers have skinned troublemakers before.”

Shit, are you that obvious? You glare down at the troll, who’s about a foot shorter than you.

They seem perfectly unconcerned.

“Pushing aside that telling some rando who I’m here to meet is really stupid, why do you want to help me? I’m flattered and all, but I was hatched a lot of yesternights ago.”

“I’m bored.”

“You are so valid, and yet I have to find it in my pusher to turn you down. It’s been real, peace.”

You turn around and forge onward into the crowd, looking for the section of the market that has fewer visitors and stands with armed guards, despite that doofus’s chatter about how fights are frowned on here. Maybe in the ordinary sections.

Books with powers lent to them by ancient psiionics. Books that talk about all the highblood castes’ weaknesses, politicians’ secrets and classified Imperial content.

Books of magic and viseralchemy.

Books written by the horrorterror worshippers who once ran the city, and if the stories are to be believed, warped and enslaved the people here to the point where the Empress herself sent her forces to save the last uncorrupted survivors.

By wrecking their shit! Happily ever after, ignore any and all better ways that could’ve been done.

Dimasqa’s never recovered in the millennia since, even if its black market obviously has. But hey - small victories.

After some sign deciphering, you see the one you’re looking for - Suppressed Religious Artifacts for Sale. Even illegal fencers have to be poncy with names, apparently. Does anyone think an Imperial spy would be fooled by a longer label?

Wait a second, isn’t that - oh come on.

The dope from earlier waves at you with what must be an artificial hand, made of some sleek dark gray material with glowing green lines on it.

“Ok, I’m a fan of playing practical jokes, but why didn’t you uh, I don’t know, say you were my contact?”

“You play around so much, I thought you'd enjoy another game.”

Good; they answered in the pre-arranged code.

With a sardonic smile and a flick of your fins, you gesture to the bolted waist-high (to a normal troll anyway) gate leading to the inside of their stall. With a flick of their fingers, it unlocks itself and you step through into the yet warmer confines of wood and tarp.

So they’re at least a telekinetic, and their control is very fine. You keep a wary eye on them while browsing their wares.

There's the usual horrorterror stuff - blatantly creepy monsters and warped troll-like figures standing side by side on the shelves - and more subtle things, everyday objects that make your neck prickle or cause nausea when you look at them directly.

Curled up angels share space with beasts and gods that probably come from minor, mostly forgotten religions. Cups, plates, and weapons engraved with extinct languages and ancient creatures are hung from various-sized pegs, all carefully polished.

Maidel would give his left arm for some of these. Too bad you can never tell him you were here.

“I don’t see what I’m looking for.”

The skepticism and question in your voice is plain.

“I locked it up for safekeeping.” They retort, the ‘duh’ in their voice plain.

If your face weren’t veiled, you’d stick your tongue out. Immature, yes, deserved, also yes. Especially because the heat is really starting to get to you, sweat running down your face and limbs.

You keep both eyes on them as they kneel down, reach under a table and take out a carved wooden box, inset with gems and buzzing with the same kind of feeling you got when you walked under the arch.

It’s not psiionic energy. It’s not any kind of magic you can immediately identify, though you’re not an expert.

It, and their voice, are still tantalizingly familiar. This is gonna bug you so bad.

The box rearranges itself into a small shrine, pieces flicking apart and re-aligning themselves in an upright shape. For the first time there’s a faint hiss and a wisp of white energy as they seamlessly re-align.

That can’t just be plain telekinetics. Matter manipulation? Tyrian tits, who is this troll?

If they’re a troll.

A look at the shrine - and the two figurines in front of it - makes you swear quietly.

Carved from rose quartz, one can only be you, except the face is intricately carved to be more cruel and imperious than your own is (at least, you goddamn hope people don’t see you that way).

You’re aiming a trident at another figure, a blueblood with their arms raised defensively who looks an awful fucking lot like Cherie...but they’re thinner and taller. The face is clearly meant to be more aged, and the horns are bigger.

Unthinking, you reach out a hand to touch them until the vendor swats you.

“Come on, Chimer, you’re smarter than that. What if they’d been cursed, or psi-affected?”

“Yeah, that’s fair - ”

You stop short.

They were never supposed to know your name.

Suspicion over your network and the possibility of being betrayed flares, but then you smile lazily.

“Soooooo. How’d you get ahold of these?”

Eat a dick, eat a dick, eat a barrel of dicks, you mother grub sphincter-sucking asshead.

If they’re a mind reader after all, that ought to get a reaction.

They shrug.

“Is that important? You just want to buy them, right?”

Not a twitch. Either they’re a hell of an actor, or they can’t really see into your head.

You know what? Fuck it.

With a click of your remote, a forcefield springs up around the pair of you, this one trapping all sound inside it and blocking the view of anyone watching.

You grab at their head covering -

- and get swatted down by a feathered wing reaching out, landing flat on your ass.

“Srevni.” You growl when you get your breath back.

They take their veil off, revealing a face that isn’t quite how you remember.

It’s not quite the beast they were before, but not their troll disguise’s either.  Some strange hybrid of the two, their second pair of eyes smaller and angled under their primary ones. Their mane has become green tendrils sprouting from their head, and the big ring floating around their neck now rests around their collarbone, a snug fit.

Their orange throat eye blinks at you.

“I didn’t think you’d be pleased to see me, Chimer. I failed you, after all.”

You roll around your feelings in your head, trying to decide how not-pleased you really are.

“Look, I’m a lot more mad at Cherie right now than I am at anyone else.”

They nod, and while their face (less mobile than a troll’s) is hard to read, the drooping of their large pointy ears seems to indicate remorse.

“I figured if you were tracking down Liehde’s cult, it could only mean they’d resurfaced.”

“Hold up, who?”

They blink, and you can see the feathered tip of their tail poke out of the long clothing swaths. No wonder they bundle up so much.

“I thought you knew. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I’m here because Cherie popped up and had this in their hive.”

You stand up and take out the damaged Chimera figurine from your sylladex, handing it over to the hybrid creature.

Srevni takes it with careful fingers, their sharply pointed nose - almost a muzzle, really - nearly touching it as they lean in, poring over the thing.

“Only a replica, but they probably have an original somewhere.”

“You will score so many more points with me if you don’t put me through the same cryptic garbage as last time, pal. Please tell me you can talk normally now.”

“I’m getting there.” They huff. “Besides, I don’t know what you want to know because I don’t know how much you know.”

You blink.

“That's a trainwreck of a sentence, but fair enough.”

With a deep breath, you tap your fingers together and think.

“Cherie’s back, and they’ve made noises about trying to help my political aims - lowblood rights, all that jazz. Pure bullshit, you were there during their little timeline stunt and you saw all those helms suffer too. They couldn’t give less of a fuck about anyone below them - or above, given they janked Coloth’s shit up and down.”

As the words leave your mouth you realize this makes Cherie’s claims of teaming up with him weird, given they had no problems taking his stuff behind his back before. If there’s one thing you feel sure of about how they operate, it’s that they never deal directly with anyone unless it’s strictly necessary; the blueblood basically said as much during your last chat.

“Anyway, that’s about it. I mean, I know their bloodline was given their powers by Chimera, and one of them had been involved with making the rift, but beyond that...nothing. I didn’t even know they existed during the whole Echthros business. They almost don’t seem to fit in the picture at all.”

Srevni smiles - or well, you think it’s a smile, hard to tell with that jagged maw - and snaps their fingers, having put the figurine down.

“That’s exactly what drives Cherie. Their bloodline came before you, long before Chimera and Miruka found Tabula and Priori, before the razing of this very city. When the immortal influences found those women after their long search, they abandoned the original bloodlines they made. Those trolls’ only purpose had been ensuring that Alternian bodies could handle such power, so they were useless once they’d found the perfect hosts for their soul fragments.”

Your fins flick up and down, trying to understand, and then you snort.

“Are you saying Cherie feels ignored? Shit, they should be grateful the Dolcez line got left alone! Fat lot of good it did me or Tabula to be the center of attention. I’m glad pangosheep isn’t like that, one is bad enough.”

Srevni, to your surprise, doesn’t join you in mocking the cobalt. It’s weird, given their prior hatred of the troll (and what you suspect was a mega-weird pitch crush on them, in hindsight).

“Cherie’s silly, their original ancestor less so. Liehde - “ They gesture to the blueblood, carved out of what you think is lapis lazuli. “ - seems to have been raised by Chimera from grubhood, if the surviving accounts can be trusted. He took it pretty personally when she left him for you.”

You take off your dang coverings because no one can see the pair of you behind the field anyway and you can’t stand suffocating anymore. Beneath, you’re only wearing swim gear (a fuchsia crop top and black knee shorts, along with a half-skirt) so you don’t die of heat exhaustion, and Srevni looks at the ground for some reason.

Why would a non-troll creature care about modesty, especially when plenty of silly fuchsias wear less than this all the time? They make no sense.

“That’s real sad and all, but I swear Maidel said Cherie did have a lusus - a sugar glider. Why'd Chimera need to raise him? Why did she even care? She fucked right off after making my deal.”

You’re not jealous of this long-dead blueblood with some screws loose, but it does stick in your craw that the fluffy asshole apparently spent sweeps around some guy she was always going to abandon, and then left you with zero explanations or tips about what she’d stuck you with.

They shrug, hands splayed outward.

“I don’t have all the answers, Chimer. Why he had a real humdinger of a grudge doesn’t matter, only what he did about it.”

“Which was...?”

“Remember that cult I mentioned?”

Your mouth pulls back into a very annoyed frown.

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Remember what Cherie did with the helms? Multiply that.”

A breath gets sucked in through your fangs.

“...he killed a bunch of people by draining them of power to do what, exactly?”

Srevni turns, and taps at the shrine.

The worn, painted images depict light beams coming out of trolls and into the man you now know as Liehde Dolcez. He’s holding up a clock - one that resembles your dear old tick tock.

Dude really was fixated. Must be genetic.

“His temple’s been searched, but no one’s ever figured out what he accomplished - if he managed it at all. There must have been a record somewhere, but it’s been so many sweeps; could be lost or destroyed by now.”

You stare at the images with growing unease.

“What did you mean when you said this was a replica, that Cherie probably had an original?”

“It seems they’ve visited Liehde’s temple themself and nabbed a few things - probably feel like they own them. This is a granite replica of a rare artifact. Originals are made of a material that can hold a low psiionic charge of almost any kind indefinitely. That, and that kind of stone being impossible to find now, makes them so valuable.”

“Ohhhh no.”

They wave a placating hand at you, their wings rustling.

“There’s not enough intact ones around for Cherie to do damage with even if they had them all. They can’t hold much anyway.”

You grit your teeth.

“Remember how Civitrecce is full of tech a million times fancier than anything here, Srevni? I’d bet my ducks Cherie’s trying to find a way to copy it somehow.”

“Even if they did, their actual power level is low, remember? Liehde’s writings whine that it was a way Chimera kept them from wreaking havoc.”

“She should’ve tried harder.” You mutter.

Looking at the creature in front of you is another reminder of why Chimera’s safeguards are worse than worthless.

Their expression hardens, you think, as they must catch yours.

“She didn’t force the Dolcez line to make their bad choices, Chimer. Any more than she forced you to make decent ones. You can’t blame her for everything.”

“Actually,” You drawl, sitting on the floor because you’re tired of standing. “Considering I wouldn’t exist without her and all of this is her fault, I can.”

Srevni sits as well, shedding their own clothing, wearing their more familiar leotard underneath, high-hocked doglike legs crossed and long feather-tipped tail curled in their lap. Their wings extend, fanning out and around the pair of you.

White wings tipped with bright teal. Echthros’s wings.

Your arms wrap around yourself as that night of the reset comes back to you.

“You still have trouble trusting me.”

The barest wisp of hurt runs through the words.

A few fangs sink into your lip, guilt blossoming.

“...does it help if I feel kinda bad about it?”

They laugh a little.

“Blanca stole my body and I had to flee the city. I found an energy source and restored myself to a solid form, but I’m stuck this way now. I’m always going to have her face.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, thinking of Tabula. “I know the feeling.”

“Look on the bright side; people don’t scream or shoot if they see you without a dozen layers on.”

Thinkpan catching up, you raise a finger to stop them.

“Waitasecond, Blanca stole your body? Why?”

They shrug.

“She thinks I’m Echthros and decided revenge would be fun. It was really annoying, but this form’s better than my original, even if...well, it could be worse.”

An uncomfortable pang of platonic pity strikes.

“How can you not constantly blame Chimera and Miruka for everything?” You marvel.

Srevni pulls their clothing back on, hiding their non-troll features again, and gestures for you to drop the shield.

The kid who threw the dagger is shifting from foot to foot at the front of their stand and launches questions at Srevni in Southern. From what you can understand they’re a girl, and also...an apprentice?

She points at you proudly and then gets what sounds an awful lot like a (fairly amused) scolding.

“Hadija says she’s sorry, but next time you should pretend to be hurt - it makes people feel better.”

You squint.

“Did you sic a child on me.”

Their jagged mouth is hidden, but you can feel the creature smiling behind their veil. Then you frown, mild indignation replaced by seriousness.

“...does she...know?”

You wave a hand vaguely.

“Hadija -” They ask her in Standard. “- what am I?”

“Weird woofbeast!” she replies in it proudly, tossing her horns.

“And?”

“Teacher!”

“What do I do?”

“Keeps the weather out!”

They toss her a coin and she snatches it, running off who knows where.

All you can do is blink as you watch her weave off among the stalls and roving trolls.

Srevni looks back at you.

“It’s not that I never resent them, Chimer. I’ve just moved on.”

With a blink, the shrine and figurines are hovering in front of you.

“These aren’t really cursed or anything, right. I won’t start coughing up frogs?”

“They could’ve been.” Srevni retorts, amused. Little shit.

Grumbling, you put them in your sylladex, then take out a suitcase from it.

“So, what do I owe you?”

“Five thousand.”

You take out enough stacks for ten thousand, putting them on a table.

“Feed Hadija and her friends a little more, try to keep them out of trouble.”

They snort.

“I can’t do miracles. I’ll see about the food and some better showers.”

Their sigh well speaks to how much trouble it must be to keep these gremlins clean.

You wouldn’t think a eldritch monster/troll hybrid would make a decent lusus, but this night’s been full of surprises.

An idea strikes as you put your own layers back on.

“If Cherie’s been to old Dolcez’s temple before, maybe they’ll come back. Could you set a trap in case they do? I’ll pay you.”

Srevni shakes their head, but then they speak, it’s with vindictive glee.

“No need. You get that on the hive.”

You grin and clap them on the shoulder.

They look away again, but now that you know what to check for, you see their tail wagging underneath their clothes.

What a bizarre creature.

“It’s been real, Srevs. I’ll contact you if something else comes up.”

“I can’t leave Dimasqa.” They warn. “My power source is here; beyond the city limits I wouldn’t be able to think, or keep my form.”

“I get you. Thanks, by the way.”

They tilt their head.

“For what?”

“Helping.”

They’re quiet for a minute, then speak in a slightly resentful tone.

“I'll always help you, Chimer. Not just because I was made to.”

A couple things finally click in your head and you feel kinda stupid, but also, why would you think they’d feel that way?

Now it’s you who doesn’t know where to look.

“Jeez, Srevs. I swear I never realized.”

They sigh.

“You never did, in all the time I knew you before.”

Then they laugh, and nudge you back.

“It’s fine. Go back and stop Cherie from whatever they’re cooking up.”

Before Srevni can turn away you give them a hug, feeling their wings trying to flare in surprise beneath your arms.

Then they hug you back.

You wave to them as you walk away, then turn, making your way back through the market’s crowds with the moonlight shining down behind you.

END

[lechevaliermalfet]

West Across the Sand: A Look Back at Kazan

When I first got into anime and manga, I was in my mid-teens, and it was the mid- to late 90s.  And at least in my part of the world, it was a little like joining a secret society.  You practically had to already know someone on The Inside, and it was like getting initiated.  Whoever had been into it longer than you would want to show you the classics of the era: Ranma ½, Tenchi Muyo! (Which one?  All of them), Akira, Vampire Hunter D, or any number of choice others.  Soundtracks (if you were into that sort of thing) were hard to come by, and most of the ones I found locally came courtesy of either Son May or EverAnime – companies I later found out were Taiwanese bootleggers.  You could tell the discs were bootlegs because the prices were reasonable.

In those days, getting fansubs meant sending blank VHS tapes to total strangers you’d found online, and waiting weeks (or longer) to get them back with anime on them, and everybody had the Anime Web Turnpike bookmarked.  There’s still a website at its URL, though Wikipedia states it’s been offline as of 2014.  

If you want to know where anime got its reputation for violence and sex, this particular era is where you want to look.  The market for anime was small in those days, and the licensors and distributors really had no idea how to expand it.  So a lot of them (in particular Streamline, Urban Visions, and U.S. Manga Corps; now all defunct) catered to the exploitation-flick market – the gore-hounds and the porn junkies, and the people we would have called edgelords if the term had been invented yet.

This was a time when you could use the word “Japanimation” utterly without irony, and there was a good chance that nobody hearing it would cringe.

Manga, meanwhile, was a total wilderness.  You couldn’t find it in bookstores back then.  That you can today is thanks to Tokyopop.  Whatever their numerous and varied sins, they can claim to have done that bit of good, at least.  And Amazon and Ebay were somewhere off over the horizon.  So you had to go to your local comic book shop, and then you had to look around for yourself, because chances were that even the people who worked there didn’t know what in the hell you were talking about.

Most of the manga that was available came through Viz and Dark Horse (and maybe other avenues I’ve forgotten).  But mostly Viz.  Dark Horse got their hands on some great stuff (Ghost in the Shell and Blade of the Immortal, just to name two), but Viz got more stuff, and a wider variety of it.

At the tail-end of the 90s, there was the beginning of an anime boom that lasted until about the mid-aughts.  I was at one of Crispin Freeman’s Q&A panels at Anime Central a couple of years ago, and he likened it to a tide rolling in about every decade. The tide comes in, hits a high-water mark, and recedes.  Then it comes in again, a little higher this time, and recedes.  In the late 90s, the tide came in and largely stayed in.

A large part of this, I think, was Toonami, which took a crowbar (part Dragon Ball Z and part Gundam Wing at the start, followed by others later) to the whole situation and forced the door wide open.  A lot of what they showed was very commercial and fairly “safe” (or at least, could be made safe), but it accomplished what Astro Boy and Speed Racer and Starblazers and Robotech before had never managed, which was to make anime into a minor phenomenon.

In the wake of that sudden explosion, there were a ton of smaller and less established entities who got into the business.  More of these, so far as I can remember, went into manga rather than anime (though there were a few new anime companies, like SynchPoint).  It was probably cheaper than trying to get in on the anime side of things.  Suddenly, we had Tokyopop (first under their Mixx Manga label, then later their own name), and DrMaster, and ComicsOne (whose publications were later taken over by DrMaster when ComicsOne vanished into the ether in 2005; DrMaster would follow suit themselves, just four years later), and Yen Press, and Studio Ironcat, and Seven Seas…  Even reputable publishers like Del Rey got in on the act after a while.

It was an exciting time to be a fan, to have so many new avenues available through which to explore the hobby, each trying to find new and exciting material in order to carve out their own niche.  Today, a lot of these publishers don’t exist.  The market was growing, but didn’t ultimately grow enough to allow room for them all.  

A certain part of me actually misses the bad old days.  Like any rational person, I’m happy that one of my major interests is now at least sort of mainstream, easy to access, and at least somewhat cheaper (nowadays, companies like Aniplex only want an arm and a leg for a boxed set of Kara no Kyoukai; back in the day, they’d have demanded your firstborn).  If nothing else, the release schedules are infinitely better.  But there was something about being a fan back then that made me feel like I was a part of something, some group, some tribe.  There was a feeling of having some hidden, secret knowledge, of knowing a whole language of fandom that other people didn’t understand, of having a line on something other people didn’t know about and didn’t get.

Really, though, I think what I miss most is the newness of my hobby.  I miss it being strange and wonderful and full mostly of unknowns, of things yet to be seen and experienced.  I miss knowing that twenty years ago, if I’d come across a copy of Beast King GoLion in a vendor’s stall, I would have lost my damn mind.  Now, I just go “Huh. Neat,” and put it on my Amazon wishlist.

A few months ago, I was going through my old manga, and came across the three volumes of Kazan I owned, out of a seven-volume run.  They were some of the first manga I’d bought in what was, at the time, the newer (smaller) size format that’s now standard for manga. Mirror-imaging, or “flopping” the artwork was still common at the time, although that practice was on its way out.  If there’s one other thing we can all thank Tokyopop for, it’s normalizing the right-to-left format for manga in the U.S.

Kazan was written and drawn by Gaku Miyao, who was probably most famous for his character design work on the Devil Hunter Yohko OVA from the mid-90s.  It was published in the U.S. by ComicsOne from 2001 to 2005.  It’s out of print now, and it was never enough of a thing that anybody else cared to pick up the license after they vanished into the ether.

It doesn’t shock me that ComicsOne went under, really.  They didn’t only release total unknowns, mind.  They got Onegai Teacher and Onegai Twins.  There was also Tsukihime: Lunar Legend (though that franchise has played second fiddle to its younger sibling Fate for a long while now).  On the other hand, they also published Jesus, and the prophet from Nazareth has never really been what you’d call a favorite character in the anime fandom.  Then as now, almost nobody in the fandom stans Christ.  Except maybe Vic Mignogna, and, well...

I remember it being new and exciting when I was reading it.  Now, looking back, it’s very much a relic of its times.  Given that ComicsOne began U.S. publication of it in 2001, I’m guessing the manga was probably published in the mid- to late 90s in Japan.  The artwork is a lot closer in style to what you’d see back then, as well as the character tropes and archetypes.  

I’d always meant to pick up the remaining volumes – certainly I’d liked what I’d read – but I’d fallen behind on collecting them as they came out, and they were hard to find later on.  Kazan was never a major item on anybody’s radar.  It’s so minor that even danbooru has no images of it.  At least, none tagged.  Fucking danbooru.

My curiosity about the later events of the series had been going strong for close to two decades, so I finally broke down and bought the remaining volumes in an Ebay auction… and then didn’t read them, I guess because now that I had them, I could take my time.

I finally got around to re-reading the series just recently, and it’s been an interesting slice of nostalgia.

Kazan is a desert-punk story named after its protagonist.  Kazan looks about eight years old, is actually closer to eighteen, and is about ten-thousand percent done with everyone’s shit.  “Surly” doesn’t quite do it justice.  He’s searching for his childhood friend, a girl named Elsie.  

Back when he actually was eight years old, he was approached by a water demon who told him that his father Sheeroc had, in desperation at the prospect of dying alone in the desert, sold Kazan for just a cup of water.  Sheeroc, leader of the nomad clan known as the Red Sand, was at that time questing about for a way to give his people a more grounded way of life.  However, instead of Kazan, the water demon decided to kidnap his childhood friend Elsie, for reasons that go unexplained for most of the story.  The demon also decided to wreck Kazan’s entire village just for good measure, and Kazan winds up the only survivor that he knows of.

Since that moment, he has not physically aged a day.  The reason for this is also left unexplained for most of the manga’s run.  

Suffice it to say that some of his surliness comes from having to constantly prove to people that, despite all appearances, he really is not a child.  A lot of the rest of it comes from the whole “being sold to a water demon” thing.

His only traveling companion in the beginning is a giant white eagle with a red crest, named Kamushin.  The eagle is so large and strong (or Kazan is so small), that he can actually carry Kazan at least for brief periods.  Kamushin seems to be sentient at times, and whether he is or not, he tends to be the most level-headed one in the room.

Aside from the eagle, Kazan’s most easily distinguishable features are his shounen-hero hair, his tall red hat, and his knife, which he wields and throws with frightening accuracy.

It’s not long at all before he gains two additional companions on his journey.  One is Fawna, a young girl capable of manifesting water at will.  This power is a double-edged sword in a desert environment.  It’s helpful while traveling, but the things people might do to have control of her power – and of course, by extension, Fawna herself – mean she has to use the power sparingly.  She and Kazan initially come to blows once her ability is revealed, or rather, Kazan comes to blows.  Fawna comes to bewilderment and confusion in the face of Kazan’s accusations that she must be the water demon who stole Elsie years ago.  Why would she have the same power, otherwise? Eventually, though, he calms down.  As he (and we) get to know Fawna, the idea of her kidnapping anybody seems laughable.

Fawna is making her way west across the desert to a country called Goldene.  She has been summoned there, as Water People (this is the manga’s translation, and we’ll come to that in a bit) frequently are, as they are necessary for the control and upkeep of Goldene’s water supply.  She’s around seventeen, and spends most of the story unaware of Kazan’s actual age.  She seems to not really take his claims of adulthood very seriously.  In fairness, “My name’s Kazan.  I’m not a kid,” – practically his catchphrase, and usually a good sign that someone has a beating on the way – is pretty much exactly what you’d expect a kid to say.

With Fawna having the same water powers as the entity that kidnapped Elsie, and Goldene seemingly a place where people of that sort are gathered, Kazan decides that his quest is pointing him in that direction.  Despite some misgivings, he decides to accompany her.  Luckily, the two of them happen across another companion, an old woman named Arbey who has a talent for making explosives.  She claims to know the way there, having been a citizen of the country herself at some point in her past.

So they go.

Along the way, they are beset by monsters and difficult situations with other travelers, as well as occasional tussles with Messengers, fierce and deadly agents of Goldene out kill Fawna (their reasons are initially unclear) and capture Kamushin, who turns out to be the White Eagle of Goldene, making him an item of high significance.

Part of what initially caught my attention about Kazan was that it reminded me in a vague way of Eden’s Bowy.  This was a show I’d first seen fansubbed at AnimeIowa in 2000.  If you want another really good example of just how different things were back then, there it is: Conventions would show fansubs, because the industry had virtually no presence at any of them except maybe the absolute biggest, so they could get away with it.  I was nursing a minor obsession with Eden’s Bowy at the time.  The three or four episodes I’d seen at the convention had grabbed my attention for reasons I’m not entirely sure I understand.  Part of it was the creeping doubt over whether the show would ever get picked up for U.S. release (it did, in fact), and I figured I was unlikely ever to see it again.  So anything that put me in mind of it got my attention.

As it happens, the similarities between Kazan and Eden’s Bowy run no deeper than the surface. There are the common elements of a boy in (mostly) white crossing the desert with a mystically empowered young girl and an older adult as companions, and in both stories, they’re seeking out a city that in some fashion lords it over the rest of the setting.  Beyond that, they couldn’t be more different.  For starters, Yorn, the hero of Eden’s Bowy, is kind of the quintessential Idiot Hero of shounen manga and anime: naïve, trusting, and ultimately kind of helpless on his own.  Kazan, meanwhile, is intelligent, self-reliant, and aggressively independent.  Cynical and deeply distrustful, he resists all attempts at friendship or other emotional connection with other characters, and the vulnerability that goes with it.

Kazan isn’t the most likeable character, but his attitude at least makes sense, given his background.  He’s a very (understandably) angry young man trapped in a child’s body, and a lot of his problems come about as a result of his hardening himself against a world that seems destined by turns to betray him and refuse to take him seriously.  When we see him in flashbacks, he’s a sweet kid.  A bit of a crybaby, even.  

Still, in the present of the story, he can sometimes be an unlikeable little shit. His early relationship with Fawna is rocky, and gets violent once or twice throughout the story, which makes me cringe a lot more in 2019 than it did in 2001 or 2002.  In the interests of fairness, I should point out that he gets violent with quite a number of people, and all for the same reason as Fawna, which is that he feels what they are doing is either very wrong or dangerously stupid, or else he sees them as enemies.  He’s an equal-opportunity asshole, I guess.  So I want to say there’s nothing inherently sexist going on there.  Still, it’s not a good look, and please understand I’m not justifying it by any means.  But I do want to lend context.  

The story does wring a lot of natural tension out of the relationship between Kazan and Fawna as natural foils to each other.  Where Kazan trusts nobody and prefers to operate alone, Fawna is naïve and occasionally trusting of the wrong sorts, which gets her into trouble more than once.  And she has a tendency, early on, to lash out with her power in anger or to harm others.  This is sometimes for self-defense, but sometimes also motivated by anger.  Kazan is – oddly, given that he’s otherwise the one more comfortable with the occasional necessity of violence – adamant that she not do this.  Memorably, one of the times he’s violent with her is to stop her from doing something of that sort.  

The manga doesn’t ever really spell out Kazan’s hangup about Fawna misusing her water powers, but I have a guess.  I imagine that it has a lot to do with his initial association of Fawna’s water power with the water demon that kidnapped Elsie ten years prior.  He has a strong (but never quite articulated) belief that in a desert world, anyone with the power to create water – in practical terms, the power to support and sustain life – should not use that power for evil ends.  Fawna using her power only for good helps to mark a clear distinction between her innate goodness and the wickedness of the water demon.

Kazan himself, perhaps surprisingly given his anger and foul attitude for much of the story, tends to pull his punches.  He’s not above beating his attackers silly and occasionally dishing out pain to those he feels are deserving.  But he goes out of his way to spare people on a number of occasions, and when someone sharpens his knife to such an edge that it can cut stones, he actually requests that it be dulled again so that he doesn’t kill someone by mistake.

Refreshingly, there’s no will-they-won’t-they pseudo-romance between Kazan and Fawna.  I don’t object to a romance angle in a story in principle, but it often gets teased in a story like this, where the two leads are each other’s foils and love interests both, and it’s just done to death.  It tends to get shoehorned in because the creators of these stories (perhaps egged on by their publishers) feel that it’s necessary.  Broadening the demographics, maybe?  But there’s a sort of obligatory feeling to it a lot of the time, as if it’s clearly being done because, well, that’s just what we do with stories like this, right?  It gets to the point where you wonder why anyone bothers teasing it.  We all know from long experience how things are going to end up.  But Kazan is clearly fixed on Elsie and Elsie alone.  He and Fawna are simply friends and partners who, by the end of the story, understand each other, and work together, very well.

Another thing that’s nice about Kazan is the refreshing absence of much cheesecake fanservice.  A few characters are dressed in provocative outfits here and there, but even when that’s the case, the “camera” doesn’t really leer like you might expect.  There are one or two moments that had me sighing and shaking my head – a couple instances of the sadly typical Faux Sexual Assault As Comedy – but at this point I like to think I’m an old vet when it comes to this. It’s disappointing, but it’s the kind of thing you learn to resign yourself to if you’re going read much manga or watch much anime at all.

The final chapters of Kazan rely on a lot of last-minute revelations to explain everything.  It’s not really a matter of deus ex machina exactly so much as it is a matter of insufficient foreshadowing.  It would go down a little easier if some of these ideas had been set up maybe a little earlier in the story.  But it’s hard to complain too much.  Even as it clanks a bit toward the end, it never quite feels like the creator is pulling it out of his ass.  The ideas are sound; it’s their tardiness that’s the problem.  But even if it stumbles a little toward the finish line, Kazan’s ending is ultimately satisfying, and earned.  The last few panels are pretty much perfect, and exactly what I spent most of the manga’s run hoping for.  And of course, there’s still the entire rest of the manga before it, which is certainly worth the read.

If there’s one place where Kazan actually falls flat, it’s the translation. And that, at least, you can’t blame on the original creator.  

You could most charitably describe ComicsOne’s English translation of Kazan as workmanlike.  It’s not really a machine translation, but it does seem at times to veer awfully close to that territory.  It’s there, and things basically make sense; that’s about the best you can say for it.  Ultimately, though, it’s just lacking something.  There are places all over Kazan’s seven-volume run where the phrasing seems bland or off, where it lacks real punch and personality, and where it seems just plain awkward and stilted. There are times when it seems like the characters lack a distinct voice.  Spelling is also inconsistent.  The name of Kazan’s father is spelled Sheeroc in the earlier volumes, but Shiroc in later ones. And there are placement issues as well, where sometimes lines that are clearly meant to be spoken by one character are lumped in with the dialogue in another character’s word balloon.  Overall, the translation is some real amateur-hour work.  This seems to be a trait of ComicsOne; the one volume of the Tsukihime manga I own has some of these same issues.

But this isn’t a problem I can really hold against the manga, since it’s a problem that (to the best of my knowledge) wouldn’t really have existed in the Japanese version.  And it’s hard to fault the original creator for how translators handled his work after the fact.

There’s not much like Kazan out there that I’ve seen.  I don’t have a lot of recommendations in the vein of “If you like X, Y, or Z, then try Kazan.”

Part of the reason I enjoyed Kazan as much as I did is nostalgia.  Not for the story itself, but for the times it puts me in mind of.  The kind of story it tells; the specific way it handles its characters, and manifests their archetypes and tropes; the way it’s drawn; all of it is intensely reminiscent of its time.  There is a certain Look or Aesthetic I’m fond of in anime, and it tends a little toward the particular stylization and combination of traits that was very stereotypical at the time I was getting into it.  But even as that’s a stereotype, there’s something about it that I actually find visually appealing.  I suppose it goes back to my nostalgia.  When this was a new hobby for me, that look was practically shorthand for everything anime stood for.

More than that, it’s a time capsule, a snapshot of how things looked when I was first getting into my hobby.  I’ll probably never again have that feeling of things yet to be seen and done, mysteries yet to be uncovered and explored, at least not with this particular hobby.  But reading something like Kazan, I’m reminded of those times with great intensity.

There’s also the setting.  I have a soft spot for huge, wasteland vistas.  As much as I can recognize that, say, The Weathering Continent is not really a good movie, I still find myself drawn to its world.  This extends into video games as well.  One of the things I loved most about Shadow of the Colossus (either version) was simply wandering its world.  Something about characters surviving in such a hostile, sometimes even decaying environment just grabs my imagination and runs with it.  But I’m picky about these kinds of stories, too.  I prefer my environments and my characters to look and sound and act a certain way.

Despite the inescapable influence of personal appeal, though, I still honestly think Kazan holds up, and is very much worth a read.  It’s not going to be the easiest thing to find, but on the flipside, Kazan was a manga published by a company that never really achieved notability and stayed in business for a grand total of maybe six years at most.  So while the supply has never been very great, neither has the demand.  The prices haven’t gotten exorbitant, and I don’t see that changing in the near future.  

In all, it’s worth the effort to track down if you can.

[artemisyaxley]

❝ I was a living star. I was combustion. I was a new sun born to shatter air and eat the earth. I am ruination.❞

 KARLA SOUZA? No, that’s actually ARTEMIS YAXLEY. Only TWENTY-SIX years old, this RAVENCLAW alumni works as an UNSPEAKABLE and is sided with THE DEATH EATERS. SHE/THEY identifies as AGENDER and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be DISTANT, CRYPTIC, and AMORAL but also MACHIAVELLIAN, CURIOUS, and KNOWLEDGEABLE. 

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Sherlock Holmes ( Book & Elementary TV Series ),Natasha Romanoff ( Marvel Comics ), Rosa Diaz ( Brooklyn 99 ),  Alice Quinn & Julia Wicker ( The Magicians )

TRIGGERS: slight misgendering. if i missed some, please let me know!

The Yaxley’s are a  notable family within the Sacred 28 -- a legacy only strengthened by Corban Yaxley during the First and Second Wizarding Wars. Akin to Death Eater royalty, the family has been paying their dues and been loyal to the Dark Lord, blood purism & the power within society it rendered for as long as time has stood. The standard was perfection, the game was simple: stay loyal, stay powerful. Artemis knew from a young age what was and wasn’t expected of her and she played the role of dutiful daughter perfectly. The matriarchs were given just as much responsibility as their patriarch counterpart, if anything, Artemis had less room for indiscretions than her brother -- because he was the one who asked questions. She had them, but she never asked them -- Apollo always did. Always pushing the envelope, always pushing boundaries until he was old enough to properly break them, Artemis continuously picked up the slack.  She compensated for his lack of respect because her brother Apollo was her sun, her best friend, the person she entered the world with, because he loved her and knew her better than anyone else. The game of chess came easy to her because she’d been playing one her whole life, every move several steps ahead, every loss calculated, backup plans to backup plans made. 

As a child she was always fascinated with things far away, things she couldn’t touch because although the environment she grew up in was not bad by any means -- it was stifling. The stars were her escape, they alerted her to a different world, the great what if, cultivating a deep love for astronomy and muggle philosophers -- anything she could get her hands on. Apollo always pushed her to keep going, to keep learning, her family encouraged her to live inside their world while he told her she could do more. Book upon book was stashed in secret locations around their manor. The Yaxley’s were livid when they caught Apollo encouraging Artemis’ fantasies ( what they called them ), even more livid that Artemis let them. In turn, they became better at hiding, better at sneaking, just better at deceiving their parents. As they grew older and Apollo became more vocal, Artemis knew that if the path he went on was going to continue to be against what their family stood for -- he’d be quietly disowned or worse. 

Entering school was an escape, another chess board and a place where Artemis was finally able to properly nurture and challenge her mind. Ravenclaw was the perfect house for her, talking in riddles herself when she could for the thrill of it ( how else would she separate those worthy of her time and not? ), lies rolled off her tongue easier than ever as the person who walked barefoot around the Astronomy Tower at night and wore heels to societal functions by day had to learn to reconcile who she was while at school. Faced with more people, new people, curiosity and the pursuit for intelligence, her mind expand and she loved it. Artemis tried to be even more for her family, while Wesley Rowle was already a close friend ( more than close, a mindmate ) of Artemis’ & someone she’s happy to spend her life with, their betrothal was an extremely advantageous affair for the both of their families. In her last year of school, Artemis hoped that Apollo would shape up and that her betrothal, her doing everything she possibly could to take the pressure off of him, would help him to be able to finally take his role as who he was in the Yaxley family -- he left. Of course, Artemis forgave her brother because she understood his motives and she loved him very very much but her family recoiled from the loss and put more pressure than ever on Artemis to succeed. Succeed she did. She was so good at the game it felt like she was meant for it. 

Naturally, her love for knowledge propelled her into becoming an UNSPEAKABLE and it’s probably one of the aspects of her life she enjoyed most. Still one to talk in riddles to see who keeps up with her, almost everything she does in that sense – confusing & frustrating – is a defense mechanism. Her observant nature means she notices everything, although she doesn’t always understand it ( especially Muggle culture ) she’s always interested. Though she often seems to be neutral in demeanor, she never is in mindset, be sure to know that Artemis is watching you, observing you, collecting data to use against you as well as she doesn’t understand people as much as her brother did. Definitely the more sociable and pleasant of the two, Apollo had a gift with people and was always just kinder, more open than she could ever be. His gift was his heart that hers, though it’s her most prized possession that she felt was a curse at times, was her mind.

She was given a choice when the war started again --  become a monster or let the person she loved most die. Was a monster still a monster if they had valid and noble reason for it? Are they still a monster if they don’t believe in the monstrous acts they’re about to commit? ( Always. A monster is a monster the minute they choose to shed their human skin and bear the monstrosities as their own. ) 

There was once a girl who believed in the stars never once thinking she’d be the one to shoot them dead. Unlike the way stars have to collapse into themselves – she always had a choice. Neutrality was just as bad as the Death Eaters in Artemis’ eyes, a person who usually lived in the grey was black and white about this one thing. If she was going to commit such sins, if she was going to sell her soul to the cause, she was going to be extraordinarily bad. She was going to become a monster to live with being a monster her girlhood wrung out like a death, the girl who looked at stars and wondered about them, starting pinning them down, to dissect, study, keep them for herself. Artemis is smarter than to believe she is a god, to believe she, Wes & her family are invincible because power shifts all the time -- what’s to say they won’t be next to be thrown under the guillotine?

 She is the member of the family who helps them plan, strategize, how to collect power and keep it. Many other Yaxley family members in higher up positions, littered throughout the Ministry, she played her part in writing them in the stars so their legacy could last millions of years before burning out. It wasn’t that she wanted power, not really not for herself, but Artemis needed to play a part to convince even herself that her life on a day to day basis had significance. For a person who could be described as machiavellian, Artemis’ finds this acquisition of power to be more of a requirement than a personal necessity, the lack of freedom would be remedied and easier to deal with, the deaths, the murder, the destruction, the endless chess game of life, would mean something if Apollo was still alive & well -- wouldn’t it? It would. The further down the rabbit hole Artemis went, the more she found herself enthralled with a game that is a merely a distraction, her humanity straying further away from her as finds ways to give into her life. 

There are days she finds herself, looking at the stars, thinking of another universe where she’d never have to make the choices she did, where she sees infinite possibilities, the outcomes of who she could’ve been. There was a time where Artemis found herself among the stars, where she saw herself as one, so distant from everyone around her but content, anciently bursting with life, even if dimly lit, collapsing into her own mind, only to become something anew as more knowledge fed her light. The girl she once was had disappeared, had been shut away, the light in herself something she was unable to find replaced by a gift to be terrible, her goodness caved into itself revealing something dark. The light had always been Apollo’s speciality, she only took it from him, she only consumed -- even from the person she loved most. The more she looked up at them now, the more she consumed of people, situations, things, the more it hit her. Was she ever like them, really? Artemis was always more black hole than wishing star. Had she really ever had a chance to be anything else?

RANDOM NOTE ( tw: slight misgendering ): As a writer I think there’s an interesting thing in how Artemis’ gender presents itself in relation to her familial background -- she’s seen as a woman by her family but she’s aware and the people closest to her are aware that she’s agender. She’s felt a connection to the power that being a patriarch & matriarch in the Yaxley family has, but she’s never identified herself with it. In fact, gender has never been something she’s connected to as a concept or a thing for herself. Artemis is very interested in gender theory and the like but due to her life, has not let herself delve into it further than to explain who she was to herself and to understand who she was for herself. 

[whyspeakin]

Hero Ink Pen 329 - 10 Compelling Reasons Why You Need

Hero Ink Pen Review

Hero ink pen that survived technology. Smooth and elegant ink pen that improves your hand writing with Aero-metric ink refilling system. Choice of professionals Buy Golden Arrow Fine Nib Hero 329 Ink Pen Hero Ink Pen - A must buy pen. Collectors fountain pen. The Fountain pen that could go with youThese pen has survived time, trade and technology Basically, iPhone of its day.Must buy pen from Hero.Collectors pen.Technical quality from century.Aero metric Ink refill system0.38 mm NibInk pen price is modestly low.Hero Ink Pen Made in ChinaHero ink pen cheap when compared with other ink penNow days availbility of Hero Ink Pen India is not an issue and are easily available on Amazon Hero Ink pen White is also available https://youtu.be/GUtzE3ZiWaE Hero Ink Pen

Hero Ink Pen Review - Hero Fountain 329 Pen

Hero pen ink cartridge model is also available, it is not advisable as cartridge come with cost. Nib Thickness0.3 mmMaterialPlastic & MetalTypeNib Type

Length of Hero Ink Pen Features 17 gms capped and filled with ink

Hero Ink Pen Capped 5.5″ long capped & 4.875″ long without cap Pen has Stainless Steel Cap on/off system. Cap can be posted, just slides down over the end. Pen closes with a slight click, snap-type closure. Pull-type pen cap makes you feel convenient.

Hero Ink Pen Nib Nib is approx. F, not labelled that I could see The nib can be finicky regarding the angle of attack. One has to be very mindful when writing with this pen of whether you are holding it at the right angle. Ink - Hero Pen Ink Bottle No ink dries problem. Aero metric Ink refill system 0.38 mm Iridium Nib can be used with any colour ink of the choice Recommended for Fine writing. Hero pen ink filling system are well advanced in time. The half world - United States, India or China knows it as Chinese calligraphy and for some Traditional Chinese answer to the world.

Hero ink pen ink color 12 color the noncarbon nonblocking ink black red blue green pink coffee Hero Ink Pen Price in India. Hero Ink Pen Rate Ink pen price is around INR 450/- and is easily available on Amazon Flipkart Shopclues Snapdeal Paytmmall

Hero Ink Pen Review

Great for your personal use. Remember the age, witness history and transformation, selection of technical quality for a century.

Hero Ink Pen Gift Ideal For Gifts Hero 329 fountain pen has been part of gift guides for nostalgia's. he writing quality is highly regarded, may it be gel ink, gel pen or ball point pen. A perfect gift idea for the near and dear ones. A Classic economical Pen is one of the Flagship pens in 1990’s. It all started started in 1931 and based in China. Most of us has experience of pens. It goes back to school days, with ink stained hands and smudged writing. And we suspect most of us have since gravitated towards a ballpoint pen, and haven’t looked back. But in response to the digital age, there has been a trend towards the traditional craft of handwriting and the fountain pen. ‘Now that handwriting is a choice, not a chore, and there is a premium on the unique rather than the infinitely reproducible, people are beginning to discover, or rediscover, the thrill of pen and ink.’ - Daisy Goodwin, Sunday Times 02/11/2014 We explore the 5 big reasons why you should consider a fountain pen.

Hero Ink Pen Review

 It’s a Lifestyle Statement With fountain pens no longer seen as a standard writing tool for everyday use, it has been elevated to accessory status. With email and text becoming the primary communication tool, a fountain pen is an honest statement that you want to write in the old way…in a considered manner. In the workplace it is a sign to your colleagues you are serious about what you are doing. Presidents don’t sign a treaty with a Hero 329 pen, they use a fountain pen. The ‘Good Old Days’ These is the age of mechanical pencils. Hero 329 pens are now often called the good old days for a reason, the pace of life was slower and the stresses of the digital world did not exist (email stress is a real condition).  Taking the time to write a letter using a fountain pen is a relaxing and tactile process, the antithesis of email and text. Feel the sense of history as you fill a converter from a bottle of ink, or sign your name in pen and ink. These pens were never a part of limited editions euphoria. Years of Pleasure How many ballpoint pens have you broken or lost? For many of us, our ball pen is a disposable item that we throw away over and over again. On the other hand, a fountain pen can last for decades if looked after well (and will improve with age). Ink cartridges are also cheaper, and come in such a wonderful array of colours. A Luxurious and Expressive Writing Experience To write with a fountain pen on creamy paper is one of life’s great sensual pleasures’ – Daisy Goodwin, Sunday Times. Ink from a fountain pen glides effortlessly over the surface of the page, meaning glorious strokes and less pressure on the paper. You can also achieve a more unique writing style by adapting your choice of nib, hold, and angle of the pen (solid gold nibs actually adapt to your writing style).

Hero ink pen handwriting Pen that Improves Handwriting But does a fountain pen improve your handwriting? We recently asked various teachers what they thought, and their answers were overwhelmingly positive. Mr Thapa, a Hindi teacher, felt a fountain actually made him write slowly and more clearly. Ms Rai used to teach in a private school where fountain pens were mandatory.  "I cannot say how far this is due to a different economic background and education system, but there was definitely a higher quality of handwriting in the private school and I do wonder whether the equipment was a factor. The school equipment aimed at poor students is generally of a poor quality and tends to break easily, and I am sure this has an impact on student’s attitudes to their work." The world of inexpensive Chinese fountain pens is something you should fall in love, and you will get the smooth results. The most recent impulse buy is a Hero 329 fountain pen. For less than Rs. 500 (sometimes less than Rs. 400/), you get a set of 3- fountain pen shipped by Lelow.online, India. There's something completely unbelievable about that, but it's the real deal. So, what do you get from Hero 329 fountain pen? When you consider the functions of a pen, a few things that come to mind are: it writes, it's comfortable to hold, it keeps ink from drying out when not in use, it clips to a pocket, and it's reusable. Lots of pens cover these basic characteristics. But there's another characteristic that many of my favorite pens have that's difficult to quantify: they're delightful to use. That's where the Hero 329 comes in a powerful work horse and the main reason it will be probably one of the best buy. It's a fun to use, and it actually bolsters from my writing experience. These are lenient words for a pen, and I should probably back them up. So, here we go. Aesthetics The Hero 329 comes in 3 body colours: Black - Maroon – Green. It's also only available in a fine nib. The material of the body and cap is classy plastic. Each part of the pen has a same shade of color, adding to the high-quality look. The metal clip is silver and actually does a good job as a clip. The main thing that does it for me is the silver label on the cap of the pen. I was really disappointed when I realized it wasn't a sticker that could be removed. I'm not sure why it's there. In the top part of the rectangle are Chinese characters, and the bottom part says "329" in a script font. Why? The pen would look a bit classier if the silver stamp wasn't there. Uncapped, the grip section is textured in a hatch pattern, although it doesn't really provide any real grip. The texture is very slight. The nib is hooded by the end of the grip section, which gives it a unique look. Writing The pen writes fairly smoothly and that’s a little nib smoothing would help a bit, really interesting in working on it. It's a very light and narrow pen and handles well either posted or un-posted in your hand.

Overall

This is a perfectly good pen really impressive functional fountain pen can be made at that price. Fortunately, this pen is enjoyable to use. It asks a lot of the writer and introduces constant distractions and speed bumps along the way. There's nothing wrong with buying a pen, you can experiment, and will not be disappointed. It's fun to experiment with different pens.

Hero Ink Pen Review - Conclusion

Is the best fountain pen to buy, the high class pen as they are one of the cute ink pens to buy, making it quality writing pens and are rightly called  fountain pens of the world once decided to buy, the question arises where fountains pen to buy, buy pen online at www.lelow.online Hero 329 Pen, Chinese writing pen are fancy pens for men.  The handwriting is on the wall: Fountain pens are back. A generation that wasn’t taught cursive and whose members do most of their writing on a keyboard or smartphone screen has breathed new life into the old-fashioned fountain pen. And that means Hero 329 Fountain pen, nice paper and ink. In India you can buy it at: www.lelow.online Spy pen Read the full article