Was this really what it had all come to? My new boss was asking me to be the fact-checker for his fanfiction. That was real, it's a thing that just happened. How the hell can I respond to that? It's nothing too different from what I was already doing, but…. What's going on?
This was just a bit too much.
I remembered in high school, I'd once pulled an all-nighter watching old sci-fi movies. When I went to school the next day, a group of students I didn't know greeted and hugged me. For a few minutes as I wandered around trying to find my friends, I was thoroughly convinced I'd been transported into an alternate reality in the night. That I had been transported into a world where everything was different except for me. Some part of me knew the idea was just too much to consider, but not very much. That bit of my mind could only summon the strength to keep the question ringing in my head, "Is this real?".

Thoughts of that morning ran through my head in an instant. At first I thought this was the same sort of situation; that my addled brain was simply doing its best to remind me to cling to my senses. It may well have been, but I think I gleaned something much more important from the memory…

I knew it was real all along, and I certainly didn't need to be reminded of that. The significance lay in the simple act of questioning what I thought I knew. The answers didn't matter, but it could never be a good thing to become complacent in assumptions. Answers and advancement come when you challenge yourself, others, or ideas. This is the case in everything, from a sugared up high schooler who watches too much sci-fi, to art, to science.

This was now my reality, so I must adapt. I need to take my own advice. This isn't what I set out to do, but I could do it. I could even enjoy doing it, and I would keep getting paid to do it. Instead of moping around because I want something that doesn't work, I can do something I want that does work, something I might even like more.

Perhaps this was a stupid, overblown way to reach such a simple conclusion, especially since it's exactly something I've talked about before, but… Well, I guess I've talked about it before for a reason. If it was so simple and obvious, other people would realize it too. I'd have had a lot less shitty fanfiction to sift through if they'd realized it. Glass houses and all that.

I guess I'd been standing there in introspection for at least a few minutes, but the blue-haired pirate with no concept of personal space must have spent the whole time awaiting my reply. His stupid eye hadn't lost a single stupid sparkle, his stupid lips were still quivering in stupid anticipation. God this guy is a weirdo. I sighed and threw up my arms.
"Sure… Sure whatever, I'll look it over, just move aside."
He stifled a screech and pulled out his chair for me, then took up position over my shoulder. It was Hunter fanfiction, like most of it seemed to be, but before delving further into the actual writing, I took a look at the character profiles. I tried to keep myself from cringing, but if any of my impulsive recoils made it past my defenses, Mr. Sail didn't seem to notice.
To his credit, it looked like he'd already taken my other reports to heart. There were some obvious points where information was cut or edited, and I dare not imagine what was in place before. Everything else was still pretty lackluster, though I presume it meshed with reality much better. The biggest problems… It was hard to admit, but they were pretty nebulous, je ne sais quoi. It would take more time than I was ready to spend at his desk to address those, but luckily one thing stood out pretty well, a problem that seems to run rampant among poorly-thought-out characters.
"I can tell you right now that a lot of what you have here is pretty redundant, and that's not a good sign"
"What do you mean?" He asked, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Look at this, here" I pointed to the screen. The characters all had a list of likes and dislikes, which were always particularly big offenders on the redundancy front. So much of it was totally pointless, or went without saying. The main character's page said he liked home-cooked food, chicken, his friends and family, and winning. His list of dislikes was "bees, wasps, losing his friends, death, boredom, and discrimination".
Well call the fucking presses, such unique and noteworthy information! I can see the headlines now, "LOCAL MAN DISLIKES DEATH!", it'll make the national news, I tell you. Next week, I'll leak that he also likes his friends. The world will be abuzz with how amazing this person is.
Give me a calendar so I can circle today, for it will go down in history.
Most of what was on the lists just goes without saying. What little couldn't be safely assumed just had no place on a list like this. If he hates bees and discrimination, that should come out in the story. It's not important enough to put in the character's bio. Of course, this was just a problem in the likes and dislikes, but it was an easy way to tell there were probably problems elsewhere. It was just the most obvious way to tell that the writer had a problem with knowing what information was worth mentioning. Characters like this typically came loaded with tons of padding, and miscellaneous information that didn't contribute much of anything, while skipping out on more meaningful information, and a quick skim confirmed that. I could easily cut out more than half of this OC's page, and so little would change that I doubt Crimson would even notice himself. It was a case where quantity was prioritized over quality.
I carefully explained it all to him, and he seemed to grasp to concept alright. I was actually surprised at how well he understood, maybe I wasn't giving him enough credit.
But on the other hand, he wrote his name on the door with crayon, and molested me the second we met.