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A very tiny percentage of creators go on to be famous, but that doesn’t mean that people don’t remember little things you did for years and years. Who came up with most of the world’s most famous jump rope rhymes? Who coined some of the famous idioms we use in daily speech? Who made up ‘Jingle Bells, Batman Smells?” Somehow, all of these things stuck and spread around.

When I was a small child, I saw a high school put on a production of the musical HONK. In one song, the mother duck describes various dangers that her baby should avoid in the water, including fishing line, which could strangle him. A member of the ensemble played the role of fishing line, doing a maniacal laugh and over-the-top strangling motions, and I found it hilarious– and to this day, that’s an example I often think of when talking about how ensemble members can still stand out in theatre. The guy who played the role might not even remember that he did that, but I do.

I took Suzuki violin lessons as a kid. The teacher made up lyrics to some of the songs, and she let her students make some up, too. Now whenever I hear the instrumental of one of those pieces, I always remember these ridiculous lyrics about a skunk that we sang in violin class. I don’t even know which student invented them!

In middle school, I found a video about atoms parodying Bill Nye made by some kids for a school product. It probably had less than 1,000 views, but I think of quotes from that video all the time. They had a parody of “We Will Rock You” with the chorus, “Protons, neutrons, electrons” that I think about a lot.

Did Zoey suffer the 'bury your gays' era? Did Clexa rewire her brain and scar her for life like it did some of us?

Did she suffer the 'Queerbait' era? Does she still get mad that Swan Queen never happened? Supercorp? Now recently Wenclair?

Does she suffer the 'Cancel your gays' era? I Don't Like This? First Kill? Warrior Nun? Etc.

I need to know her Fandom related pain and how she info dumps random shit to Rumi and Mira about it who have little to no fucking idea what she's talking about.

(secret bonus: the other side of her tag)

it’s been a few weeks, I suppose we should check up on the AHSGSHGAFB?!

ajdhf.

well that’s just,,,

REXCELLENT

HELL

YES

HELL

FUCKING

YES.

HAIL TO THE QUEEN

LONG MAY SHE REIGN!

this year we’re doing a much-beloved character from classic literature, “Dracula with inappropriate straw hat”

thanks everyone, may your weens be hollow and your candy be many!

she’s… (WEXTER! here girl!) she’s a… a…..

she’s a T. Rex.

GOTTEM!

ERASERHEAD BABY.

ohshit

everything will be fine.

The Monster Magical Girls!!

Still subject to change, but this is the gist of them!

"This is Ankh-Morpork, you know. We've got extra pronouns here."

"Female? He told you he was female?" "She," Angua corrected. "This is Ankh-Morpork, you know. We've got extra pronouns here." She could smell his bewilderment... "Well, I would have though she'd have the decency to keep it to herself," Carrot said finally. "I don't think it's very clever, you know, to go around drawing attention to the fact." "Carrot, I think you might have something wrong with your head," said Angua. "What?" "I think you might have it stuck up your bum."

Sir Terry Pratchett - "Feet of Clay"

This is CARROT being the asshole. Carrot who has, throughout all the prior books, been depicted as basically the best of all possible people. He is noble, brave, considerate, kind. He is the good guy in the entire City...

... and yet, he grew up dwarf, and has picked up their more conservative views on gender identity.

Discworld dwarves start out in the books as basically a people without visible gender differences (thanks to the woman growing beards just like the men) and using "he/him" pronouns as their default. Anything else is seen as breaking the most basic of social conventions. (Dwarf dating is described early on as being two dwarves who like each other spending an inordinately long time trying to find out, as tactfully as possible, what gender the other dwarf is)

Carrot does immediately adopt the "she" pronoun for Cheery, which is but wishes she didn't make such a fuss about it. He's prepared to tolerate her choices, but he doesn't APPROVE of them, and thinks that that is enough.

Carrot, because he IS Carrot, does learn to open his mind on this subject, perhaps his final frontier of bias, but I do love that it's addressed as something he has to work on, and succeed.

1) I don't have the book to hand, but when Cheery comes out she changes her name to Cheri, because "sometimes, when you shout who you are to the whole world, you need to do it quietly." It's such a beautiful expression of coming out being a process, and one that needn't be undertaken all at once.

"we put the "they" in them!" ....

Or, was Danny Fenton.

Not alternates, not reincarnation, not clones or anything else his family might come up with. Martha and Thomas Wayne had been Jack and Maddie Fenton. He'd told his family his secret and they'd supported him wholeheartedly. When the GIW kept getting more aggressive they'd tried to protect him.

Jazz had died protecting him.

Frostbite had been a big help in keeping him safe and healthy in the aftermath, shrinking his body to be younger, to keep the surge of grief from twisting his core.

Apparently Frostbite had been owed a favor by someone, and had cashed it in for him. The three remaining Fentons had changed their names and moved to Gotham city, under the care and watch of Frostbite's contact, Alfred Pennyworth.

In order to stay safe, he has to find a way to express his emotions in his human half, his ghost half would lead the GIW right to them. And it's working. The minor memory spell on Gotham has them accepted as 'the wayne family' and Martha and Thomas are throwing themselves into improving the city, keeping it safe for their only child.

Fourteen. He’s fourteen and he’s standing inside a tear through space-time. It’s too young and too old and everything in between as he experiences everything and nothing. His friends say it’s less than a minute.

I was considering that Dani would fit well as Kate. Maybe she was exploring in the realms, eventually drifted out and, hey wait. Where's her cousin? Where's any of the Fentons?

So she goes searching through the realms for anyone that might know where he's gone. What if Vlad got him? Or what if something ate him?

So she looks until she hears rumors about a city called Gotham, and eventually finds Danny living there with a new dad and a completely different name. So she hems and haws for a bit. Yeah she could just claim the name Dani now, but it deels weird being the only Dani.

She checks out Danny's backstory and makes sure that hers matches up, maybe hires someone to pretend to be a parent or drags someone from the realms (maybe amorpho).

Gotham is a dark and dreary city, with neon signs lighting up the streets and the puddles of water. So far her favorite weather has been when it’s just barely drizzling, and the entire city seems to glow. She might miss the hot weather she was used to, but she could see why Bruce was here. The glowing was pretty reminiscent of the Realms.

She adjusts her hair as she gets out of the cab, walking up the road towards Bruce’s home. A small grimace when she notes that it’s the size of Vlad’s, but. But she can feel the care that Bruce and others had put into it, the footsteps and joy in the stonework. It’s not how Vlad would have a big house, to boast and show off. More so… it’s like a big lair. It’s big to fit all of Bruce’s emotions.

It surprises her when she can go right through the door, no shield or alarms going off. She keeps going though, following Bruce’s echoes to his room.

She stifles a giggle when she makes it. The room is big and cozy, a huge set of windows lining one of the walls with a telescope facing the sky. The bed is subtle, dark blues, blacks, and purples layered to remind of the evening sky. It is so, very, Danny. Even if he’s Bruce now.

She doesn’t quite follow the rules of gravity in her leap, jumping from the door to the middle of the bed. It moves with and around her, and she quickly finds herself nice and comfy.

She adjusts her clothes and her hair and settles in to wait, going over the plan in her head.

With her hair and appearance being different, Bruce wasn’t likely to recognize her. Hopefully the situation would be familiar enough, though she felt sure he’d know her core.

She knew Bruce had had to flee, that at some point his human parents had died. That the vigilante running around Gotham was most definitely him. Her core ached at him being alone for so long.

So, she’d stay in Gotham and help be the fraid that he needed. They were cousins, and she knew that he wouldn’t keep her from leaving if she needed to.

Idly she grabs a magazine from the nightstand, flipping through articles on space and barely seeing them.

No. She knew DannyBruce. It didn’t matter that it’d been so long. The moment she wanted to go, he’d wish her well and see her off.

The light from the crack she’d left in the door widens. She lets a grin stretch her face, carefully not looking up from the glossy paper. “Sup cuz.” She greets lazily. “Betcha missed me.”

The silence drags on and she resists the urge to look. It didn’t matter that it’d been so long. Danny was always willing to help her.

“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize… me?” She looks.

Familiar blue eyes and black hair stare her down, the tight, distrusting look on the face, much less the face, isn’t familiar.

Familiar eyes narrow as the person tenses, coiled to spring. “How did you get in Bruce’s room?”

Not Bruce.

She narrows her eyes back, tilting her chin up. “How did you?” She accuses haughtily.

The man stutters before scoffing, his head tilting down in challenge. He’s got some sort of weapon on him, from the way he’s standing.

“Dick Grayson.” The stranger introduces, “His son.”

Her eyes widen and all pretense at not paying attention fades. If she looks, she can see the claim on his proto-core.

“I won’t ask again.” He snarls, “How did you get in here?”

She blinks a few times, trying to switch back to mortal vision, closing her mouth. She slides to the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling embarrassed of her ‘inside joke’. “Kate.” She answers quietly. “Kate Kane, I’m his cousin.” She rubs her neck at his look of disbelief, trying to cast back to the acting tips that Vlad had given her, and then to the ones she’d bargained out of Amorpho. “I’ve been traveling a lot, but. Figured Bruce could use some family. I didn’t… didn’t know about you.”

“Over a decade.” Dick’s eyes narrow. “Long time to be out of contact.”

She shrugs, trying to smile and feeling like it falls short. “Bruce’ll recognize me. I’m his baby cousin.”

Dick’s stance relaxes a little, even while his frown grows.

She twists her wrist in a ‘hurry’ motion. “So… call Bruce.”

“I-” His mouth snaps shut with a click. “Bruce is-”

“Master Dick?” A new voice cuts in. “Lad, are you alright?” A hand settles on Dick’s shoulder, before the new person comes into view. Proto-core layered in a variety of claims, some deals, some favors, with Bruce’s fraid claim stamped over the top of all of them, the elderly man squints at her, before his eyes widen.

She knows, in the sinking feeling in her core, in her stomach, that he can see her own fraid mark. And that that’s not a good thing for her.

“Young miss.” The elder says quietly, grief overlaying his voice. “I do wish we could have met in better times.”

She pushes back the instinct of tears, the urge to hunch over and protect her core. “Does he… does Bruce not want to see me?” She can feel her eyes watering as she pushes herself off the bed, holding her hand over her core. “I know- I know I didn’t come to help him, and that it’s been a long time but-”

“Bruce is gone.” Dick cuts her off, emotion torn from his voice even while his proto-core rages and seethes under the tide of grief. “He’s-” Whatever noise had been next, Dick cuts it off, glancing towards Alfred before spinning on his heel and leaving.

“Danielle.” Alfred says quietly. She watches him sink to the ground, meeting her where she didn’t realize she’d knelt.

“Kate.” She whispered back. “Katie maybe.”

“Miss Kate.” Alfred soothes. “If Bruce was here, he’d be ecstatic to have you. For you to meet his children. There was a battle. Bruce died keeping everyone safe.”

She shakes her head, static rising in her ears. Desperately she pulls on her fraid connection, feeling the tentative lines to Dick and Alfred, feeling the sharp, desperate claim that came from being severed from Danny’s core in her creation. Danny had fought Pariah Dark and won. He’d fought Ancients and won. He’d fought Vlad.

“He’s not.”

“Kate.” Alfred soothes.

She swallows her grief and focuses on her rage and her determination. Her cousin was alive.

And where ever he was trapped. She’d find him.