Some Basic Friendship Skills

Have you ever realized that people go crazy over sparkling vampires in Twilight, but there are vampires with epic nosebleeds in anime, and we're just totally fine with it?

basically, i think the general rule of thumb is: if someone REALLY wants the blood that’s inside of your body, and they’re like… a vampire, or a dracula, or some sort of mansquito, then that’s probably okay. a dracula and a mansquito are made for removing things like blood and swords from inside your body. that’s basically fine.

if something wants to get at your blood, and they’re, say, some kind of murdersaurus, or maybe a really big frog, that’s where the problems start to arise. a really frog is not made for removing blood, and your blood knows this, which is why it is so vehement about wanting to stay IN your body instead of coming out. 

unfortunately this will not deter a really big frog, because a really big frog is full of things like prizes, and value, and quite a lot of hatred, and it would REALLY rather like to replace any and all of those things with your blood, and basically by any means possible.

Giveaway Contest: We’re giving away ten vintage paperback classics by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Walt Whitman, George Orwell, and others. Won’t these look lovely on your shelf? :D To win these classics, you must: 1) be following macrolit on Tumblr (yes, we will check. :P), and 2) reblog this post. We will randomly choose a winner on April 22, at which time we’ll start a new giveaway. And yes, we’ll ship to any country. Easy, right? Good luck!

Reblog to have something lgbt happen to you this summer

…well, that escalated quickly. I posted it way back at the end of 2014, it got reblogged by several BNFs in quick succession yesterday, and then it proceeded to rack up like 2,000 notes in one day, so apparently it still needs to be said:

Yes, you are allowed.

You are allowed to write the fic you want, rather than the fic you feel obligated to write. You’re allowed to write crack, crazy realism-defying stunts, self-indulgent trope fic, fucked-up fic about problematic people doing unhealthy things. Fic that doesn’t go through the pre-flight safety check for every swordfight and every BDSM scene, fic that glosses over the ugly real-life fallout of psychological trauma and/or jumping out of a quinjet without a parachute. Or, hey, if that’s your thing, fic that dwells on psychological trauma in loving, messy detail and has at least three punchlines about characters not being able to defy the laws of physics. Any of those things! All those things! We contain multitudes!

Any fic you write is probably going to be a net positive for fandom. The people who were looking for something in your niche get it, the people who didn’t know they wanted something in your niche discover a new thing they like, the people who don’t like it click the back button, the people who really really hate that entire genre of fic get to stroke their hateboners and get high off their own self-righteousness.

If it upsets people? The back button is a failsafe and instantaneous safeword. If it’s not as ~quality~ as other people’s fic? Don’t make me break out that “holy shit! TWO cakes!” comic. If someone takes away a disturbing, unhealthy, or otherwise less-than-wholesome message from your fic? You are not responsible for their failures of critical thinking or reading comprehension, to say nothing of those reading with outright malice looking for something to pounce on after interpreting it as uncharitably as humanly possible. Jesus fucking christ, it’s fanfiction, if people legit want sex ed they should be on Scarleteen. It’s not your job to educate them, certainly not with your fic. It’s not. It’s not. Fic serves so many other purposes. You are allowed to write what you want.

What is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you have ever read?

This passage from Carson McCullers’ The Ballad of the Sad Cafe. *sigh*

How about you?

are you happy with that?

So.

As you might imagine, my inboxes have been flooded over the last few days.  My fic represents, for a lot of people, either their start in Avengers fandom, or the safe place they retreat to when the angst and infighting and shipwars got too intense.  Which I get, and I appreciate, and I’m so glad if my old fics can give people a little happiness, even after all this time.

But there’s a thread I keep picking up in comments, that kind of worries me.

That things that happened in the MCU have taken the fandom away from them.  That the way things happened in Endgame have left people distraught, or angry, or just grieving.  And a lot of people have worried that they’ve ‘lost’ these characters.

And look.

Look.

I say this as a fandom old.  I say this as someone who reads comics.  Who came from the Trek fandom.  Who’s lived through bad movie adaptations and subpar ghostwriters and writing staff changes that have destroyed tv shows before they had a chance to really fly.

Don’t let canon take anything away from you.

You can be disappointed in a thing.  You can have your heart broken by a writer.  You can hope against hope that something that means the world to you will be ‘true,’ but don’t let a corporation take your heroes away from you.

Every one of us has to pick and choose what we keep and what we leave behind.  But every single version of Captain America has been fanfiction since Jack Kirby and Joe Simon put their pens down.  He’s owned by a corporation, and they can decide what’s on screen, who gets paid to write him, who gets the big platform.  They get to decide canon.

But canon is meaningless.

Canon is a way to win an argument in a bar or in a schoolyard.  It’s knowing publication dates and issue numbers and who wrote what arc and when the reboots happened.  It exists.

But when I think of Hawkeye, canon is only part of the picture.  I do think of Matt Fraction’s run on the comics.  I do think of those early years, sneaking my brother’s issues of West Coast Avengers.  I think of the weird, wild, off beat run of Secret Avengers.  But I also think of @dr-kara’s art of him.  I think of fanfic long since deleted, that introduced me to the fandom tropes of Clint living in the vents.  I think of the Tumblr posts, diving deep into the psychology of trauma, into his place as the most human and the most pointless of the original six, into a thousand stupid memes.  Caw-caw, motherfucker.  I think of the comments I got, telling me he was OOC.  I think of the Hawkeye cosplayers I’ve met, including the one guy who was in full gear at Star Wars Celebration in Florida.  I asked him why, and he shrugged and said, ‘Clint would’ve.’  I agree with him.  

I think of the first time a friend put a bow in my hands, and showed me how to shoot, wobbly and uneven, at a straw target all the way across the yard.

I think of the bruises that dotted my arms afterwards.

So canon can add new things.  Take bits away.  Make me think.  Make me hurt.

But nothing canon does will ever cause him to be different, not on any fundamental level.  Clint Barton started forming in my head when I was eight years old.  He belongs to Marvel, but the version I carry with me has a lot more sources than that.

Guys, this is a long way of saying: find your own version of the character.  Find what you need in a fandom.  And think of canon like that one fic that has a million kudos on AO3 and you just. Don’t.  Know.  Why.  That one fic, that everyone talks about, that you just can’t stand.

If canon doesn’t work for you, then discard it.  And move on.

But don’t let a corporation take a character you love away from you.

Don’t ever let that happen.

“Don’t be the reason someone feels insecure. Be the reason someone feels seen, heard and supported.”

— Cleo Wade

Ficlet: Still Untitled, Sorry

Follows on from this one. Still AU, still pretty aimless, more fruk than maple tea because this one’s from Arthur’s POV and Arthur likes to think rude things about his fiancée and needs smacking with a cluebat before he realises people actually might like him.

Marianne is sick. It’s naught but a summer cold, for all the wretched woman will carry on like all her tomorrows are meant for the next life, a grand excuse for the princess to lie in state in her chambers and have seemingly all of Wessex call upon her there to offer her their respects.

Arthur snarls at what looks like half his Court outside Marianne’s rooms when he goes to do his duty one morning and inquire after the health of his beloved bride-to-be – and they scatter, hastily parting like the waves to let the prince through to Marianne’s door. They don’t leave though, not until Arthur rather pointedly puts his hands on his hips and stares the lot of them down, and even then they depart grudgingly, edging off into the shadows with sulky reluctance.

Whilst politically advantageous, Marianne’s obvious popularity at Court is beginning to grate on Arthur’s nerves. Just a little bit.

A very, very little bit.

God damn the woman.

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