KPop Demon Hunters Fic Authors - do you think it'd be neat if podfics of your fics existed? Podficcer community culture AND the ao3 terms of service both agree we need your express permission to post podfics - Please let us know they're wanted by publicly posting (in your ao3 profile is a great place) a fanworks permission statement!
Check out @fanworkspermissionstatement for an easy statement builder and a very well done FAQ on permission statements! In addition to podfic, fanworks permission statements are a great place to post how you feel about translations, fan binds, art, and even more! You can also state if you'd like to be asked first, any other nuance that suits your preferences, or if you aren't comfortable with any of the above derivative fanworks.
One of the largest podfic events of the year kicks off this weekend and runs through the month of May - so while there's never a bad time to add a permission statement, now is an incredible time to do so!
Tagging some folks below the cut who may be interested in helping spread the word (no pressure though <3)
so far one theme of the 30s for me has been realizing that literally every human being on earth who appears completely cool and collected and together with it at first glance has some threshold past which enough known information about them will shatter that mystique completely. i don't even say this negatively or pessimistically it's just been helpful to keep in mind that we're all like that.
It's warm... it's fashionable.... it's hot coo-ture!
i made a the pigeon sweater (by Michelle Tsai) for my friend! i've been wanting to make another top for ages, but I have way too many sweaters already, so when she mentioned seeing a sweater she really wanted it was like serendipity đïž
i'm so psyched with how this turned out; she lives over a thousand miles from me so i had nothing but some measurements, math, and a lot of faith that this would fit properly (and it does!! perfectly!!)
bonus picture of a little surprise I made, too :o)
i have a post queued about the purse itself, but since I had so much yarn left over I just had to throw in a little something extra.
Here's some of the notes, starting with the things multiple people brought up:
SHRIMP COCKTAIL:
banahbanah: #flashback to that one fic where Peter Parker frets about drinking shrimp cocktail because of the alcohol
generaldeliciousness: adding: what a prawn/shrimp cocktail is
#why is your character turning it down because they're under 21 #do you think prawn cocktail is a cocktail #this lives in my brain rent-free constantly #the rest of the fic was so normal #and good enough that i'll still re-read it #but bro
And then many, MANY, people wondering if this was actually authour mistake, since Peter really would do this!
POMEGRANATES:
zhajhassa: #haha where's that post that was like someone describing someone eating a pomegranate but they ate it like an apple
thornhands: #once someone wrote persephone biting into a whole Pomegranate #had to stop and stare at a wall for a minute
sungsingsanguine: I once saw someone very confidently write about a character eating slices of pomegranate.
FRUIT TREES:
zagreuses-toast: #given a very endearing glimpse into a writers blindspots by seeing them describe someone sitting under a ''pineapple tree''
salatrash: I remember something about picking watermelons... OF A FUCKING TREE
baander: #cranberry trees
DOUGH/BATTER:
maycelium: #I'm a chef so I'm really used to people not accurately describing how to cook food #But I was surprisingly flabbergasted when someone was writing making a cake and was kneading it. Which uh #Not necessary for cake. It was interesting for sure but just bizarre
livebloggingmydescentintomadness: #the one that drove me nuts was when a character set aside a batch of PASTA DOUGH 'to rise' #pasta doesn't have yeast!! #it does need to REST but it will never RISE #you do not want an airy crumb on your noodles
lovesodeepandwideandwell: #THE ONE WHERE THEY MADE COOKIES BY LADLING BATTER INTO A TRAY
Some other topics:
ANIMALS:
catenarwhal: #mandatory 'how cows produce milk' mention#i'll never recover from that one I fear
piromantic: #one time i saw someone fake their way through describing how spiders behave
pluto-lichen: horses
misskittypotter: #stardew valley faking its way through what fresh fish smell like
pa-pa-plasma: #saw someone faking their way through knowing what a seal is once #i still am fucked up over that one to this day. they just straight up did not know #& they were NOT good at guessing it either like it was clear they had never googled that animal ever #& was only just now realizing via answering questions from anons that seals are not!! what they assumed. initially
SEX:
dykevandyke: #what a prostate is #and where it is located #as in. external.
dreamyeyedrose: #I remember back in the ff.net days reading an Ichigo/Renji fic where the writer assumed the penises go inside each other #and I was like âI mean I don't know how it works for sure I don't have one but idk if that's how it worksâ
SOME OTHER FOOD STUFF:
thetrekkiehasthephonebox: #add another one to the list bloggers#this character is cooking a salad
shosta: #still baffled about the published work that didn't know food could freeze
sun-dari: #once i read a fic where the author didn't understand cinnamon
alto-tenure: #read something recently where the author was just. blatantly wrong about spices
dramatic-dolphin: #i saw someone try to fake their way through what ramen is once. like 14 years ago.#but i remember.#i was very confused about ramen for a few months. they were writing it so authoritatively.
the-celery-stalks-at-midnight: #i will never ever forget someone putting leftover fries in the microwave to reheat them and setting the timer for five minutes
typeghost: #this sparked a memory of a hannibal fic where the author had to fake their way through writing about gravy
draculin: #the one fanfic where the author knows about coffee only as a concept wrote a character as a coffee drinker#was very interesting#I don't remember the fandom or the plot but I was mesmerized by the coffee actions and choices
11235811235811: #there's a lot of faking their way thru congee in the svsss fandom i'll also note
fishali3n: #read one where the person clearly didnt know what tofu is
emmy-everafter: #in the aftermath of shadow and bone s2 i saw a lot of people pretending to know what stroopwafels are #babes they are more like cookies than breakfast waffles #like yes there is a waffle pattern but you're not gonna cut into a stack of them with syrup and sugar#đ€Łđ€Łđ€Ł
NON-FOOD STUFF:
red-umbrella-811: Shoutout to Dame Agatha Christie for faking her way through what a wrench is in a very popular published work.
bluebeetle: #once saw someone have a character put an entire phone book in their pocket
nonametis: #- sex talk in languages other than english #<- or just the petnames in a different language other than English
sadisticpony: #the fanfiction i saw this week where op DIDNT KNOW HOW AUTOMATIC DOORS WORKED #and that they arent in peoples homes!!! of course. also opening the automatic door for someone is unironically very funny but its not #its not like. grabbing the door handle to let someone in. helpppp
danmeichael: #reminds me of the fic with the figure drawing class where the character started with the feet. #i love you feet first figure drawing author
meowmix1100blr: #me watching this one fic absolutely obliterate what the board of directors does
vexedhexes: #one time i read an architect character making a doorway bigger by building a bigger door #what a beautiful world. #OH. also gravity falls fic where they go 'oh piedmont is in california so its warm all year round'
leveragehunters: #characters going to a beer garden #And it's literally a garden outside the pub#It was a very cute mistake
fitofpique: #yes! #grown men do not get blind drunk off two beers #but i am possibly guilty of the hypothermia one #assuming it does not make you very horny?
dadvans-likes: #always thinking abt the soup kitchen fic #the entire setting of the fic was 'soup kitchen' #and i very quickly realized #the author did not know what a soup kitchen was #and they thought that soup kitchens only served soup #fic
msmargaretmurry: #i love fanfiction #once read a fic where the characters played 20 questions #but the author seemed to not know how to play 20 questions and was just kind of winging it........ #immaculate
shakespeareaddict: #Look I know not all of us are hockey experts #But it takes about ten seconds of research or any attention paid to the show to realize #That the Stanley cup playoffs are not in fucking September
baejax-the-great: #the funniest one i saw #was someone faking what church is like #like 1. they really didn't have to write an entire church experience for their fic #and 2. they had clearly never even watched a show where people went to church #it was bonkers weird
twosunson: #things ive seen authors faking #knowing how to unclog a drain #knowing. literally any history #knowing what ketamine looks like (apparently- oregano) #(you know who you are)
waterhorseyblues-ao3: #beltane being celebrated in winter #wales being portrayed as a completely separated land from england (i wish) #characters getting up after weeks of bedrest like that dosnt completely fuck you up
violetfairydust: #i once read a fic where the flight time from london to seattle was 3 hours
purekesseltrash: One time, in a fic set specifically in Des Moines, IA, two of the characters casually drove 20 minutes to the ocean. The memory continues to delight me. I want to know where that author thought that Iowa was.
Aro and ace activism is housing reform, is well-funded public housing, is an expansion of affordable housing, is allowing single people to get affordable and public housing, is rent controls to make it possible for single people to be able to afford to live alone on a single salary.
Aro and ace activism is healthcare reform, so that no one needs to rely on a spouse for health insurance, so that healthcare is available to everybody regardless of income, so that no oneâs lived experiences or basic dignity are dismissed or overridden by doctors
Aro and ace activism is well-funded and expansive public transit, so that you donât need to have someone on hand to drive you places if you are incapacitated, so that you donât have to pay for an ambulance if you need to get to the hospital quickly
Aro and ace activism is disability and elder care services, so that no one needs a spouse to care for them, so that no one needs children to care for them, so that marriage is not a bind for disabled people, so that people on disability who want to and can live alone can
Aro and ace activism is community-building, itâs public events, itâs free social activities, itâs mutual aid, itâs activities that bring community members together without socializing relying on just a romantic partner
Aro and ace activism is developing a culture of believing when people tell you who they are and what they want rather than assuming you know them better than they know themselves
Aro and ace activism means a better world for people without ânormativeâ desires or ânormativeâ social support, which means a better world for everybody
More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor's almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate sky of Spring rains, it's the greening of the trees that really gets to me. When all the shock of white and taffy, the world's baubles and trinkets, leave the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath, the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin growing over whatever winter did to us, a return to the strange idea of continuous living despite the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then, I'll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I'll take it all.
LOST RYU FOUND! HEIR TO THE RYU FORTUNE GOES HOME WITH ADOPTIVE GUARDIAN KIM CELINE. MORE ABOUT KIM'S IDOL HISTORY PG 12.
//
'is it true?' bobby demands, pushing open the door to her study. he doesn't have to knock - he never has to knock - but he always does; that he doesn't now tells celine all she needs to know of the worry, the worrying hope, that nags under his skin as it does her own. 'you found her? you found rumi?'
'yes. at least - i think so. yes,' celine says again, less sure than the first time. 'it's her. i know it's her. but ...' her fingers brush the black frame on her desk. the photo is glossy bright, the most colourful thing she has in here; rumi, her pristine grade-school uniform smeared with paint and grass, one knee skinned, socks fallen around her ankles; rumi hand-in-hand with "aunt celine", who hadn't managed to escape the pink-green-electric blue paint smearing onto her blouse, and hadn't cared; rumi smiling like the point was to see how wide she could get it to go, ear to ear, two teeth missing from the lineup.
'she doesn't remember me, bobby.'
'it's been seven years. longer than she knew you.'
celine shakes her head. turning the frame, she fiddles with the latch until she can remove the photo from inside of it. folding it, she tucks it into her pocket.
'it's more than that. i looked into her eyes.' you found her? you found rumi? she hates, suddenly and fiercely, that the answer is no. the girl she found is her niece, without a doubt. but she is not rumi. her thumb brushes the photo in her pocket before she draws herself up to her full height and plasters an appropriately concerned look on her face. 'we'll be back in time for dinner, i hope. prepare her room, please?'
'of course. go, go,' he insists. 'bring our girl home.'
//
'miss ryu, there is someone here to see you,' the nurse says at the door of the room. her voice is irritatingly sweet. it sounds like she is talking to a toddler instead of a twelve-year old girl. 'it's your auntie, miss celine! we're coming in!'
celine clears her throat. it stops the nurse, who glances back at her curiously.
'if you don't mind...' she flicks her fingers and the nurse steps back. celine takes her place and knocks politely. 'rumi? my name is celine kim, we met last week? may i come in?'
there is a long pause. then, the door creaks open an inch.
she's quite tall for a twelve year old and shockingly thin. she looks like her father, celine thinks as she had the week before. then almost immediately changes her mind when rumi opens the door a little wider. that trust, that stubborn hope that flickers like a tiny ember in her mismatched eyes, was all mi-yeong.
the nurse bends over to smile at her. celine isn't quick enough to hide her distaste from rumi - she's twelve - but that seems to earn her some interest. rumi points at celine and nods, opening the door wider. when the nurse tries to follow, the change is immediate, dramatic, desperate. she makes angry lines with her face and body. the growl that tears from her throat is feral, frightening.
celine can't help but notice more - how she steps back instead of forward, how her hands come up, defensive, how she shakes. how she twists to make a smaller target of herself.
'she won't be joining us,' celine says before she can think it through.
rumi doesn't seem to understand. maybe she doesn't hear.
'just me,' she says. points at her chest. 'just me. not her.'
rumi's jaw--square, strong, far too sharp--works and works. she nods. steps back deeper into the dark room.
celine wavers in the doorway. it's not truly dark within the room; even with all the lights out and the blinds snapped shut, it's impossible for it to be truly dark. the city doesn't like to be ignored; its lights push through the blinds like neon fingers and its noises melt into a drumming cacophony, a stormless storm. even without being dark, celine feels her chest get a little tight. she shakes the fear away with years of practice and follows little rumi in, shutting the door carefully behind her.
the paparazzi loves you. the paparazzi loves you. smile and wave, boys, rumi thinks, and has to fight a hysterical laugh at the mental image of the penguins from that silly zoo movie as she draws a shy smile across her lips and waves prettily to the clump of photographers. from this angle, she can't see any of their faces. just baggy-suited bodies and cyclopic cameras flashing, flashing, flashing in her face.
it's enough to make her pity them, really; for all the effort they put in tracking down her and celine when they're out and about on the town, they don't actually see anything. not the scars and cracked ribs hiding under her clothes. not the weapons always close at hand.
'do you want to speak to anyone today?' celine asks her, a guiding hand on her shoulder.
rumi nods.
celine doesn't show her doubt in front of these people but rumi can feel it in the way her thumb brushes her collar, grip turning weighty for one possessive, protective moment. her smile covers the near silent,
'you don't have to.'
'it's fine,' rumi promises, and over the tang of blood in the back of her throat she can barely taste the lie.
the truth is that rumi's desire to speak with reporters is always nil; the truth is that her ability to speak with reporters, or anyone at all, comes and goes. and she can talk now, which means that she really, really should. the truth is that talking to the reporters will help their cover for last nights fight and the truth is that the fight is more important than the fact that rumi aches today in a way that means bobby probably wouldn't have let her out of the house if he had seen her.
so. she talks to the reporters. she charms them with a few comments, compliments the tie of the second most important reporter in the crowd, and lets the camera people take a handful of more flattering photos than whatever the paparazzi snapped of them coming out of the mall.
yes, she's enjoying the holidays; yes, she loves university but she loves being home with celine as well; they don't have big plans but there's always a family meal; her degree is a double, civil engineering and science medicine, she's always been fascinated by the science of it all and celine encouraged her to go for it and try her best; no you may not ask what i bought, celine will find out and it's supposed to be a secret - ah drat, now she knows i'm her secret santa this year. well. let's keep that between us, if possible? thank you so much.
it's easy. until it's not. until one of the reporters asks the question they've all been dying to ask but rarely dare to actually say out loud, always speaking around it.
she knows what he's going to ask before the words come out. something about the lean, mean smile he gets as he shoves the microphone into her face.
'rumi! you and celine have RSVP'd to the mayor's christmas gala next week, and you never miss the gotham light show -- how does it feel to be surrounded by such festivity on the anniversary of your parents' deaths?'
it's almost a relief, really, because now she has a reason to leave.
celine goes tense. her society mask drops for a second, brutally cold eyes fixing on the reporter. rumi hopes he doesn't have a family. he'll be out of a job by this evening, she's pretty sure. rumi steps closer to her aunt, taking her hand before she can do or say something she'll regret; to the reporter, she fixes him with her own cold look and tells herself that it's as satisfying as breaking his nose would be.
'it hurts.' the you moron goes unsaid, but she pairs her statement with a withering look that ought to convey it pretty well. she intends to leave it at that, she really does, but anger gnaws at her, her cracked ribs, her throat, her gums like its fangs want to come out, bared to all of these fucking morons. her belly is empty of everything but acid. 'it hurts. all year round,' she tells him. 'you think i wake up one day a year and remember to be sad about the fact that my parents are dead? one day? you think seeing other people being happy makes it hurt more? they're dead, you fucking moron--'
rumi clamps her mouth shut, clamps her eyes shut, clamps her hand shut tight around celine's wrist. fuck. she's totally fucked it.
'i - i didn't mean - '
'that's enough,' celine interjects.
within moments she's pulled them out of the mess rumi has made. rumi tunes back in when she says something about visiting gotham central hospital and that christmas inspires the spirit of giving and community and won't the public join them in donating to the family fund for the hospital to provide a holiday experience to the families who won't be able to go home for their celebrations.
'rumi,' celine says when they slide into the back of the car and nod for the driver to take them back to the mansion. 'what was that?'
rumi turns her head away. stares out the tinted window at the dark, brooding arch of her city. the scowling faces of the grotesques high on the buildings. she wishes that it was night again. she wishes that it was night and she wasn't in this stupid normal person costume but in the purple-and-black of her hunting armour. that she was flying across the rooftops. that she wasn't being asked questions about her dead parents--about how it feels to have christmas bells and carols ringing, ringing, ringing in her head like she doesn't hear them year round, like the jaunty silver tinkle of the bell over shop doors doesn't make her flinch, like a dark alleyway doesn't sometimes send her spiralling back to being ten years old and terribly afraid and terribly, terribly alone.
'sorry,' she mutters, sounding sulky to her own ears. 'i didn't mean to.'
'that's not - okay,' celine sighs. 'it's alright. he shouldn't have asked you that.'
'sorry,' she says again.
'i know. just - i'll ask bobby to help me with the shopping when we get home. you head up to your room and get some rest.'
'okay.'
out of the corner of her eye, she watches celine struggle. her hand extends halfway across the space between them before freezing and retreating back into her lap. then she too turns away and stares out at the city. rumi closes her eyes and closes her teeth around her tongue, a cage for all the things she'll never say to her aunt.
somewhere between the gotham lullaby of sirens and the mansion, rumi lets herself fall into sleep.
Honestly my first draft of this post said âmy neighborâs sonâ and then I was like wait a second thatâs functionally the same as saying âmy cousinâs sister.â Thatâs still my cousin and thatâs still my neighbor.
The nine-year-old was literally driving the vehicle after knocking the gear shift into Drive apparently by accident. Seven- and five-year-olds in the backseat. Nine-year-old knows in movies people stomp down on the thing on the floor and the car stops. He stomps. It is the gas.
Meanwhile Miâyeong and Hana have zero Star Wars knowledge, but they still show up to every con. They donât know whatâs happening, but they still support the girls.
this is probably my favorite tiktok of all time and I finally got around to showing it to my dad the other day and now he comes home every day and tells me about all the places he saw crumbling concrete and says "guess they didn't add enough chinchilla flakes"
My dad has worked in construction is whole life, primarily with a company that does concrete foundations, and I immediately sent him this back when I first found it on TikTok, and he IMMEDIATELY shared it with everyone he worked with. They apparently still quote it on his job sites to this day.
