Kichi, NO!

this kind of policing is why ao3 was created

remember, kids, the three laws of fandom are:

- don’t like; don’t read

- your kink is not my kink

i’ve been seeing this come up a lot around tumblr lately, especially with fandoms going through those inevitable periods where one character suddenly becomes the character everyone is writing about. right now it’s Peter parker with the new movie, before that we had clark kent when superman (2025) came out, steve harrington with the final season of stranger things, and i’m almost certain rafe cameron is about to have his moment when season 5 of outer banks rolls around.

and honestly, i completely understand the temptation. there’s a real difference in engagement when you post a character who is currently everywhere versus someone whose fandom has been dead for years. if i posted a peter parker fic right now, it would probably reach way more people than something for a character like harry potter. when you can see that difference, it’s easy to think, “maybe i should write this instead.”

if you genuinely love peter parker and the new movie has you inspired, then PLEASE write him. if clark kent hype finally pushed you to finish a draft you’ve had for months, go for it. there’s nothing wrong with following a trend when it actually overlaps with what you already want to create.

the problem is when you start writing characters you don’t even care about just because you know they’ll get more notes. eventually, you stop creating for yourself and start creating for an audience you’re trying to predict. and i say that as someone who’s done it before.

writing is already such a vulnerable thing to share. so it’s a shame when engagement starts convincing writers that their work only matters if they picked the “right” character at the “right” time.

a dead fandom doesn’t make your writing less meaningful. a fic with 200 notes isn’t worse than one with 20,000. sometimes you’re just writing for a smaller audience, and that’s okay.

so if you’re sitting on an idea for a niche character, write it anyway. don’t drop something you love just because something else is more popular right now.

write because you want to. write because you’re obsessed. write because the idea won’t leave you alone. write because it doesn’t exist yet and you want it to.

Earlier today, I got a positive comm that I was certain was a bot. Read through it waiting for the attempted lure to another site or some sort of switch and bait, only for none of that to happen. And with a bit of research, I could confirm the reader in question was genuine.

Great, right?

Except, why am I researching this? Why can I not just take it at face value? Why must I automatically assume the worst before I can prove the opposite?

The truth of the matter is that nowadays, 9/10 times, it is a bot. And I hate that that's the norm now.

What a time we live in.

Seriously, to all those who take the time to reach out and leave genuine feedback and expressions of gratitude, thank you.

So today I tripped. Fell flat on my face, it was awful but ultimately harmless. My service dog, however, is trained to go get an adult if I have a seizure, and he assumed this was a seizure (were training him to do more to care for me, but we didn’t learn I had epilepsy until a year after we got him)

I went after him after I had dusten off my jeans and my ego, and I found him trying to get the attention of a very annoyed woman. She was swatting him away and telling him to go away. So I feel like I need to make this heads up

If a service dog without a person approaches you, it means the person is down and in need of help

Yes, absolutely. And thank hell for all the authors who write character-driven, ship focused fic for us to soak in the vibes to.

But also…

thank hell for all the authors who write angst, whump, and hurt no comfort, for us to luxuriate in blorbo's hurt and pain and cry or cackle.

thank hell for all the authors who write cheating, love triangles and affairs for us to consume large quantities of popcorn to and yell 'oh no, they didn't'.

thank hell for all the authors who write case fic, mission fic, and intricate, plot-driven stories to replicate the feel of canon, when canon has stopped or gone wrong.

thank hell for all the authors who write 'fix it' fics when canon has betrayed us with bad vibes, plot holes and deaths.

thank hell for all the authors who write poly ships when what we need is just for everyone to get along and screw instead of screw up.

thank hell for all the authors who write gen fic when we're not interested in romance.

any time someone is in any kind of crisis or upheaval, offer to feed them. tell them they don't have to choose what it is if they can't make decisions, just ask about allergies and preferences and tell them you're just gonna make food happen at their house.

friend having a baby? delivery gift certificate to order food to the hospital after the kid shows up.

someone's relative passes away? offer to make them dinner.

buddy gets laid off? ask if you can order them lunch.

pal stuck in a depressive episode? offer to drive them to fucking mcdonalds, if that's what they want.

people in crisis are tired and sad and angry and the last thing most of them are doing is thinking about feeding themselves. so if you have the ability or time or money, providing that is always, always a good move.

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"We're in this together."

Chapter 29: Confrontation

The silence hung between them, thick and unbroken. Hosea allowed it a moment, before pressing. “Talk to me Arthur. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

He’d always been able to get him to open up. Always been able to find a way in. Figured it would be the same here. That all he had to do was extend the invitation, and he’d all but confess those hurts that weighed on him so heavily. Weren’t no secret that Arthur’s thoughts could be just as dangerous as they could be volatile, a long history of self-depreciation and doubt etched into his very being, fueling each and every dark thought he kept well and truly buried.

Yet there was another beat of silence, and then his words came. They were thick and rough in the manner Hosea had grown accustomed to whenever he were trying to hide himself. “Forgive me if I ain’t exactly come to terms with where I stand.”

“Arthur,” he chided, letting a sigh. “Now you ain’t thinking right. You ain’t feeling well and it’s messing with your head. Just...come on back to camp. We’ll get you fixed up right and we can discuss things then.”

There was something pitiful in his laugh, almost broken as he responded. “You ain’t get it, do you? There ain’t no going back; least not for me. Dutch made that quite clear.”

He let out a measured sigh, trying his best to keep his frustration out of his voice. “You and I both know he was heated. He ain’t mean what he said.”

“Man says a lot of things,” Arthur agreed quietly, “but you were there. You saw what he tried to do.”

“And he were wrong,” Hosea acknowledged, “I ain’t going to argue that. He’s a stupid as he is stubborn, but even he can see where he messed up. You come on back, talk it out like men, and you’ll see—he’ll welcome you back.”

“He will, will he?” Arthur broke into a series of coughs, “You think he’s gonna let me just come riding with him after running with the O’Driscolls?”

“And you think you’re going to last long riding with them?” Hosea wondered, staring him down