#I hate shit too but I simply ignore the entirety of fandom! and that’s a fact

[killuaisaprincess]

People who wanna harass you for fiction, having a different headcanon, and so on! They do not care if you’re grieving the loss of a pet, or if something else in your life has gone wrong. They don't have fucking souls, the end. So I will focus on doing what I love instead!

[fireladybuckley]

Antis have completely ruined fandom enjoyment for me. ALL antis. I don’t give a fuck what you ship and nor should anyone else, but why the nastiness? Why the bullying and callouts and snide comments and generalizations? “Buddies” this and “Bucktommys” that, being crappy to people who ship something other than what you do simply because they ship something else… it’s so fucking immature and juvenile. I’ve seen countless people be harassed simply for posting excitement about their ship, or posting a fic or edit.

You are not required to like every ship. In fact you are freely allowed to hate whatever ships you want to hate. You don’t have to understand why someone likes a ship they do (there are certainly ones out there that make me scratch my head or squick me out). But taking your hate for a ship out on the people who ship it isn’t okay. This is the most toxic I’ve seen a fandom get in a very long time, and I was around for the entirety of the SuperWhoLock dominance, and the rise of the Twilight and HP fandoms (yes, I’m old.)

I ship Buddie, I always have and I always will. But I don’t mind BuckTommy. And that’s okay. It’s also okay if you love BuckTommy and ship them instead of Buddie. It’s also okay if you love Buddie and hate BuckTommy. Any of these combinations are okay, literally no one is required to like what other people do. Changing a ship you like is not some moral act, I’ve seen quite a few Buddie shippers acting like those who “jumped ship” and like BuckTommy now have committed some cardinal sin. It’s a tv show. It’s a story. People are allowed to like whoever and whatever they want for whatever reason they want, they haven’t done anything wrong, even if you feel betrayed somehow.

Stop being an asshole about it for fucks sake. Making fun of and mocking other people in the ways that I’ve seen lately is grade school bully bullshit. Why are some of you going so out of your way just to antagonize people? Why can you not just ship what you want to ship and ignore the ships you don’t like? I’m saying this to ALL of you who are doing this, regardless of what you ship. Why tag post a gifset of Buddie and tag it anti-bucktommy? Why post a fanfic of BuckTommy and tag it anti-Buddie? You can just tag it as what the ship is in the story/edit/whatever, why go out of your way to alienate the other “side” or make multishippers feel unwelcome?

You are seriously driving wedges of negativity and toxicity through the fandom. I’ve chatted with a lot of people lately who have said fandom drama is at least partially preventing them from feeling comfortable posting, ruining their drive to make gifsets, art, or write, because they don’t want to deal with inevitable “discourse”. A couple people I’ve talked to said (or I’ve seen posts saying) that they feel like they’re being forced to pick a side, and that some of their mutuals have suddenly started becoming nasty to others and it’s just really putting them off. I myself have unfollowed the majority of 911 blogs that I used to because it is just too tedious and frankly irritating to wade through all this crap. It feels like there are now two distinct sides to the fandom and it’s just ridiculous.

Maybe I’m just too old for this shit at this point, but I’m really disappointed to see the fandom take such a nasty turn. There’s obviously been arguments and bickering here and there from the beginning, but I’ve been in this fandom for ~5 years now and I’ve never seen anything this bad before. The general level of nastiness is too damn high. You don’t like Tommy? That’s fine. But why the fuck are so many people acting like he’s a pedo and saying horrific things about him just because they don’t like the character? Why are people acting like he’s grooming or taking advantage of a grown man who is perfectly capable of taking care of himself? On the other side, you don’t like Eddie? That’s fine. But why do people act like Eddie is the most terrible father in the world (when it’s been shown time and time again that Eddie would do anything for his kid) and that Buck should just take Chris and raise him? Why do so many of you spend SO much time shitting on the one character or ship you hate when you could be focused on loving the characters or ships that you love?

And that’s not even touching the subject of people harassing the actual actors, that just disgusts me so much I’m not even going to talk about it besides condemning it entirely. Leave the actors alone, they don’t write the story, they’re just doing their jobs. Leave. Them. Alone.

Anyway I’m sure this will fall on deaf ears, if it even gets seen at all. But I have felt out of place in this fandom for a while now due to the cliqueyness that developed over time, and now more than ever the fandom feels incredibly unwelcome to anyone who just wants to enjoy the show and post and take part in positive things and not get bogged down in the shipping war negativity spiral. I have so many half-written fics that I just don’t have the motivation to finish anymore with so many people just full-on boycotting anyone who ships one thing or the other. This all just makes me both really angry and really sad. I used to love jumping on tumblr and skimming through the posts, getting excited for the next episode, seeing the newest art and fics. Nowadays I hardly come on, and when I do, even though I’ve unfollowed so many discourse blogs, I STILL see the drama.

I still love the show. I love the firefam, I love all the progress they’ve made. The fandom used to give me a warm glow inside. Now I practically feel dread when I login and hope that I’m not going to see yet another big blowup between the two “sides”.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. I don’t know what the solution is either, besides just hoping that people will drop their petty bs and start being nice, but somehow I doubt that will happen. Just please remember, people, that the others you see on your screen do have real, actual humans behind their URLs. That the nasty things that you hurl at each other affect real people’s emotions and mental well-being. Too many people that are chronically online forget that words have consequences, even when it’s “just” fandom stuff.

Especially right now when the world is getting worse and no one has money or even hope, can’t we please just be kind to each other? I long for the days when a fandom space was more or less for joining together and enjoying the media at hand, not bitterly fighting at every turn. Please just be kind to each other. Is that really too much to ask?

[mhaynoot]

@yourmonstershowatemygodmetaphor and @transgender-anakin-skywalker here is the reply!

i feel like i must clarify that like i never actually read killing stalking. my only engagement with it is remembering it as something that caught on in tumblr spaces many years ago right after the mystic messenger hype and the little memes that came about because of that LMAO but like yeah despite that, i still watched somerton's video for whatever god forsaken reason

like you said, he has that very noticeable "i hate teenage girls" attitude that is sadly all too common still but with his own delineation of straight teenage girls. he is simply excelling at propagating the generally condescending, misogynistic bullshit thats proliferant in shaming young girls and teens as not knowing better and hating on them for engaging in media and fandom in the "wrong way". like a whole "how dare you ship these two fictional characters" that feels especially ignorant and judgemental and just a thinly veild excuse to shit on young girls -- because apparently society doesnt do that enough already (/sarcasm).

but not only does he targets the youths, he also had a weird condescending attitude towards the original creator. like i vaguely remember a segment where he expresses "concern" about how the author rts and makes christmas(?) ship art on their personal twitter account around the two male leads. the way he framed several of his comments made me feel extremely uncomfortable and was what put me off the video entirely. it felt like he was almost patronising the author in a way because they couldnt possibly know they were doing something "wrong" and they too were "romaniticisng abuse" somehow. by making ship art of their own characters. like what. just cause the source material is a very dark and horrible relationship doesn't mean fans and the author still can't ship it without it being a moral failing or somehow a disservice to the source material's horror.

its like how horror fans can fantasise and love the murderer or monster without romanticising murder. much like wearing a halloween outfit and allowing oneself anonymity, it's part of the fantasy which includes the horror and the darkness. it's part of what makes fictional exploration so important. it allows his hated straight white women, and young teenage girls to be able to explore and understand the world in a different way even if it is by making two fictional men kiss and hurt each other. this also applies to asian fandom spaces too, especially the queer and closeted fans. the free exploration of art and self is crucial in learning queerness and something largely unspoken. especially in societies which are strictly controlling over female bodies and is still deeply homophobic, it makes it all the more important that there are places to indulge and fantasise what is already shamed. it goes a hell of a lot of ways more to normalising and accepting queerness than shaming and silencing ever would.

its similar to the grotesque in a way, especially mary j. russo's idea of the female grotesque -- finding the ways in which the female body fits within the landscape of the other, exploring the entirety of what is typically shamed in society like the horror of the female body, the horror of menstruation, the horror of the female self, and keenly highlighting such and thus in doing so expressing its liberation. although thats a more western centric lense, i find it can translate a lot to what goes on in queer spaces especially in asian fandom spaces. i don't have the means to properly examine it but there is a deeper connection to be made about queerness and the forbidden, the illicit, the grotesque, the horror and the freedom of fiction that gives -- to still exist and celebrated and loved and explored by creators and fans and, yes, straight young girls too when often it is not accepted in asian society.

oh here's my mini rant draft on the subject and yeah i got pretty angry as you can see and it was more a vague angry post than anything

im assuming past me knew what i was talking about but its been a few months now for me so like take what i say with a grain of salt obviously because i haven't seen the video since then and will never again! :)

thanks for being interested in my thoughts, sorry this was horribly rambly and excessively long, thank you for reading!!! 🌻🌻

watching hbomberguy's plagiarism video and realising that james somerton is the guy who i thought had a shit take on killing stalking and fandom spaces, especially asian queer fandom and the shipping scene. like months and months ago, i remember i finished somerton's video, wrinkled my face like i tasted a tart lemon and clocked this dingus as having no fucking idea what he's talking about. i had even started a writing up a rant about it and everything but just shoved it into my drafts because i didnt want to rewatch his rubbish video and subject my timeline with even more of his videos - ugh. so this is so emotionally validating truly.

[thefanficmonster]

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid. 

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it. 

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!�� I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth.  All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari

[itsclydebitches]

PFFFF The newest Witcher trailes LITERALLY throws shade! They have the 'Geralt, but you've been such lone wofl so long, what change' and deadass show JASKIER before later shoving Geralt saying 'Yennefer' like a cheap 'no homo!' excuse. I can't. xD Whoever edited it knows what's on. xD

I feel so conflicted about the Jaskier-Geralt relationship in the show because on the one hand, yeah, they're definitely leaning into this non-romance in a way that can get uncomfortable for some, how shall I put this... jaded viewers lol. We know they'll never be canon. No matter what else we might say about Netflix's inability to accurately adapt the books, Geralt/Yennefer has always and will always be endgame, so getting intimacy between Geralt and Jaskier in these particular ways (flirty jokes, bath scene, argument staged like a breakup), while not explicitly queerbaiting, can make viewers feel... icky about it all. Especially for any show-only fans who might not know that Geralt/Yennefer is endgame. Many viewers, particularly American viewers, approach shows as malleable forms of entertainment that can provide them with the representation they crave, provided the fanbase is vocal enough about wanting it. And the more talk that surfaces about major, crucial changes to the plot that reinterpret huge swaths of the books' purpose and intent, the more it can feel like they might just change Geralt's love life too! Even though they (obviously) won't. And frankly shouldn't given that this is supposed to be a faithful adaptation.

Yet on the flipside, the Netflix versions of Jaskier and Geralt don't feel intimate to me at all. Their hostile introduction, Geralt outright punching him, the continued performance of 'I'm a big strong manly man who can't admit that he cares about others,' reducing decades of their bonding to a surprising, throwaway line, that argument when Geralt blames Jaskier for all his problems... it's terrible and I've never liked this dynamic for them (even as I, somewhat hypocritically, play with it in fic). So I'm like, you're intimate enough that fans are starting to side-eye the creators' intentions and yet simultaneously not intimate in any of the ways you should be if you were actually faithful adaptations of the book. And these problems, I believe, go hand-in-hand. By ignoring the actual friendship of the books, Netflix has been forced to "prove" that they care for one another by falling back on tired buddy tropes that, historically, fans have used as evidence for a potential romantic relationship. By not writing Geralt and Jaskier as having the open, witty, philosophical, caring-but-also-taking-no-shit relationship they had in the books, Netflix has fallen back on a dynamic that isn't doing their show any favors. Fans either hate it, or love it to the point where they expect something of the show that the show can never deliver.

So it's a mess! And that mess hasn't done Yennefer any favors either. I'm really not in a position to be defending that pairing - I've never hid that I'm not a Geralt/Yen fan - but whatever the books did that made others love their relationship... I don't think Netflix is capitalizing on that either. In that other ask I brought up how in the games their relationship seems to revolve entirely around Ciri and sex. If they're not talking about their daughter (or if Yen isn't being cruel) their relationship is just about how horny they are for each other, which... isn't really a relationship to me. Or at least, not the deep, "We belong together forever, we're basically soulmates" relationship that the franchise is going for. Same with Netflix. I never liked the foundation of their relationship being an ambiguous wish that tethered them irrevocably and a quickie in the rubble as a replacement for actually getting to know one another... but Netflix takes those aspects and emphasizes them to a disappointing degree.

"You spent a lifetime alone. What changed?"

"Yennefer of Vengerberg."

Yet when it comes time for the trailer to show us what this deep, insightful relationship is that changed a man after an entire lifetime of wandering alone... it's just sex. That's literally all Netflix is able to show us because that's the only meaningful interactions Geralt and Yen have had together. Here's a clip of them falling into bed together and Geralt, without any of that emotional work shown to the viewer, professes that he loves Yennefer the way she's always wanted to be loved.

Here's a clip of the joke we got where Jaskier is gaping over them having sex on the floor post-Yen nearly killing the lot of them.

I'm like... what out of any of this is meant to be appealing to me? Besides the fact that they're both hot as hell? (The casting does make my little bi heart happy lol.) For me, Geralt and Yen are a classic case of a story insisting they're meant for each other because That's Just How Stories Work, without doing any of the actual, you know, work to show us why they like each other, or how they got there, or why these superficial things (the sex is great!) trump the huge hurdles they should be working through. The games might have their flaws, but god bless 'em for letting the characters point out, "Hey... how do we even know this love is real and not just a byproduct of the djinn's wish?"

Geralt and Jaskier, as established, absolutely have their problems in the show, but I can understand why so many fans ship them over Geralt/Yen. And no, though bigotry can play a part, we also can't demonize the entirety of its popularity with, "You just hate women/are racist/creepily obsessed with queer men/whatever the latest accusation is." Rather, the popularity exists because, whatever their faults, it feels like they actually have a relationship in the show. We see them developing together in a way we simply don't get with Yennefer/Geralt and because that development isn't largely reduced to sex scenes—the narrative trying to pass every bonding moment off as True Love, with True Love equaling physical attraction—it comes across (at least to me) as more realistic and believable, especially given Geralt's character, someone who is emotionally closed off. If Vesemir (I think it's Vesemir) asked what changed and we deliberately cut to that moment of Jaskier leaving after Geralt drove him away... I'd more easily believe that yeah, this relationship is causing Geralt to rethink things in a way he hasn't for an entire lifetime. We've seen them travel together, become (begrudging) comrades, defend one another, do favors for each other, tease each other, have a major fight that they'll inevitably make up from, Jaskier is presented as Geralt's first friend, and none of this is tied to a questionable wish, or passed off as the totality of Geralt's development.

The fact that Netflix would include those lines, cut to a legitimately heart-wrenching moment between Geralt and Jaskier, but when it comes times to show his relationship with Yennefer, the most powerful moments are her without him (smashing the mirror, undergoing her transformation, stepping out in her new body for the first time, etc.) and their moments together are just sex—one of which is used partially for comedy—well... that just illustrates the problem for me. What relationship? The one that supposedly exists simply because the story says it's there? I don't think I'll ever be a Geralt/Yen shipper, but I'm perfectly capable of separating my personal preferences from subpar writing choices. Netflix is far into the latter. The way that they're adapting the story is, imo, hurting both fans of the book material and fans who are on the fence about book material. Because so few of these changes are working well, we've lost all the good the books contained and are now stuck with so much new bad. Basically, "No one liked that."

Except, of course, for the Geralt/Jaskier shippers riding the coattails of those tropes... though many will likely be disappointed and hurt by the series' end when they're not made canonical, with others growing frustrated with how the fandom has turned on them simply for liking what they were given. It's really turning into a lose-lose for everyone involved.

[fandom-imagines]

October

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers X Reader

Warnings: Death, attempted rape (not by Michael), hurt. (also not proof read because it’s 4am and I’m very inspired so I’ll proof read it another day).

Summary: Y/N hates fall, but that changes upon meeting someone special.

Words: 2.8k

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with the song ‘we fell in love in October’ by Girl in Red and yeah this just kinda happened because of it.

Fall had never been Y/N’s favourite season. As a matter of fact, it was one she hated and dreaded the most each year. Well, until she met him.

They met during October, nearing Halloween.

Sure, she had heard the whispers about the infamous Michael Myers who murdered his sister and many others. Did she care? No. Not really anyway. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him… right?

Well, that’s what she thought. She had never believed that she’d ever meet him, nor see him. But, everyone can be wrong sometimes.

The stars glistened brightly as Y/N lay on a blanket, gazing at them dreamily.

It might have been cold, freezing actually, and the jacket that hung loosely from her body provided very little warmth, but she still enjoyed it. Despite hating fall, she did particularly like the late nights. Not many people would be around on the nights due to the cold weather which meant that she was able to be alone whenever she wished, except for Halloween of course when children and teenagers alike would be wandering the streets of Haddonfield.

Lost in her thoughts whilst staring at the stars, she finally realised something.

“Shit I’m lonely.” A slight chuckle left her lips at the words.

As if on cue, a sadistic voice sounded behind her causing her whole body to tense, “Do you often talk to yourself late at night?” She could almost hear the smirk through his words which was followed by numerous laughs.

Quickly climbing onto her feet, she turned to face the people, who she quickly assumed was a gang after seeing their similar outfits and weapons ‘hidden’ in their pockets.

“Sometimes, yes.” She gave a casual smile, doing her best to hide how afraid she truly was. Despite the shaking of her hand, she showed not true fear, her eyes simply filled with determination. “Can I help you gentlemen?”

“I believe you can, pretty lady.” The man, who she believed to be the leader of the gang, stepped towards her with a huge smirk on his lips.

“How so?” Y/N’s head tilted to the side, hair falling with the movement, covering her face in a cute manner that almost made the men feel guilty; key word being almost.

Nothing could really change their beliefs after it being instilled in them from being children.

All five of the men walked towards her, an action that made the girls strong stance falter. Both her stance and demeanour crumbled into tiny pieces as the first guy grasped her shoulder tightly, leaving her unable to shrug it off despite her attempts.

“Let go of me.” She mumbled, eyes darting towards the ground.

“Awe, you sound so cute when you say that.” Another man chuckled, beginning to palm himself through his, almost too tight, jeans which made her realise what was about to happen. “Say it again.” He stifled a moan at her small, afraid whimpers.

“Please.” Her tone was a pleading one, simply sparking the enjoyment and pleasure in the men’s eyes.

“Awe, she’s so cute guys. Maybe we should kee-“The leaders voice was cut short by a knife to the heart, blood quickly making its way to his mouth, pouring down his lips. Everyone, besides the perpetrator of course, stood frozen still.

Y/N watched in horror as each of the men were slaughtered in front of her.

It was only once the last man fell to the ground that she finally looked up to see the man who has rescued her.

“Michael…” The name left her lips before she could even stop herself. All she got in return was a simple head tilt from the extremely tall man. “Thank you.” She whispered to him before taking a step forward. “Even if it was a strange last sight, I still appreciate it.” Her words came out hoarse now as she realised that it was the end of her life.

Michael simply tilted his head again, looking almost like a confused puppy. In fact, it was cute to her. Sure he had just murdered five men, but he saved her and she couldn’t thank him enough for that, even if he was about to kill her.

Y/N’s eyes closed as she stood in front of Michael, his body towering over her in a way that intimidated her significantly. Her body braced herself for the stab.

One second…

Two seconds…

Three seconds…

She wasn’t sure how long she was stood there, but the stab never came. Her eyes flew open, wondering as to why she was still breathing, only to reveal Michael was no longer stood there.

That was at the start of October.

It had been over a week since then and she was still alive as well as extremely confused.

He saved her and then didn’t kill her? Michael Myers? Willingly sparing somebody’s life?

From what she had heard, she assumed that that wasn’t normal for him. But the more she thought about it, the more confused she became.

Each night was spent wondering why he spared her life; why he saved her.

Sure, maybe it was the bloodlust. But why would he spare her? She didn’t know him, he didn’t know her and he was some bloodthirsty killer.

She thought nearly every hour of every day, pondering why he spared her, but she was unable to think of a valid and reasonable answer.

Little did she know, she would receive her answer that day.

Y/N’s lips formed into an O shape as she puffed out the smoke from her lips, cigarette limp in her hand which hung beside her thigh.

The roof she was on was one she visited often.

Nobody was able to come up here, meaning that she was the only one here.

She did love to be alone, like she was right now.

Or so she thought.

Behind her stood a tall, masked man that the entirety of Haddonfield knew as Michael Myers, the guy who killed many, including five men a week ago.

He stalked towards her, knife nowhere in sight, simply store in his pocket, close to reach if he needed to grab it, but hidden enough to not scare the girl.

He watched fascinated as she lifted the lit cigarette to her lips. He caught sight of her painted fingernails, a nice shade of red. It was strange of Michael to pay attention to such simple things, tending to be focused on the colour of the blood pouring from his victims. Maybe that was why he noticed her nails; the blood red reminding him of his victims.

Michael himself wasn’t entirely sure as to why he spared her life. He had stalked her for the past week ever since the incident, the feeling in his stomach leaving him irritated. He became especially irritated when he couldn’t bring himself to force the steel knife into her chest whilst she slept soundly, oblivious as to the fact that there was a killer hovering over her, unable to strike.

There was a small part of him that understood what the feeling was, an extremely small part that he ignored.

He was infatuated with her.  

Maybe it was the way she did her best to stand up for herself, or the way she walked towards him unafraid despite having just witnessed him kill five other men. It could also be how she thanked him, despite knowing who he was. Or maybe he just liked the way his name sounded falling from her lips and he wished to hear it again.

He wasn’t sure which reason it was, maybe a combination of all of them. But he was fully aware of the fact that he couldn’t kill her; he had tried multiple times in the week following the incident but, despite the voices screaming at him to do it, he couldn’t bring himself to end her life.

Michael was now behind her on the rooftop, nearing the edge where she was stood, gaze focused on the scenery ahead of her, blissfully unaware of the shadow looming over her.

His huge hands gripped her shoulder, pushing her gently, a big enough push for her to be scared, a scream leaving her lips, but his grip tight enough making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

He didn’t want that.

Eyes wide, she spun around to face the person who had almost killed he.

Her eyes widened even more as she saw who stood in front of her,

“Michael…”

He simply nodded before leaving.

“Don’t go.” She called for him, pleading for him to stay, almost like she had pleaded for the men to stop.

She watched as his body came to a halt.

“Michael,” His body tensed, “please stay.”

He did.

That was how their relationship, if you could even call it that, began.

That was two weeks ago.

It’s only a week until Halloween.

Until Michael next killing spree.

Y/N wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Michael had ended up staying at her house nearly every night.

Sure, he crashed on the couch, surprising her, but he did stay with her.

The two grew attached to each other, even if Michael was unaware as to this fact. He was, however, aware of the fact that he couldn’t kill her; he couldn’t even harm her, even if he wanted too.

It was another night with Y/N lounging on the couch, watching some random movie that was playing on the TV. Weirdly enough, she was alone tonight. She had no idea where Michael was, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried. But she knew him well enough, or at least she liked to think she did, to know that he could take care of himself. He’s a big man, quite literally.

A knock on her front door pulled her attention away from her thoughts as curiosity filled her body. She didn’t know who it could be. She wasn’t exactly expecting somebody, and it wasn’t Halloween so there’d be no kids looking for free candy, something that Y/N began to curse at herself for, remembering that she had meant to pick some up today.

The knocking grew louder and more aggressive the longer she waited.

“Hello?” Her voice was confused as she greeted the weird man on her doorstep.

“Y/N, right?” He was straight to the point.

“Uhm…?”

“Dr Loomis, I need to speak to you.” He barged past her, startling her immensely and she internally begged Michael would be here soon if things went badly.

“Okay?”

She carefully closed the front door, turning to face the guy named Loomis who was now stood in the middle of her lounge.

“What is it?” Her words were cautious, chosen with extreme carefulness as she wasn’t entirely sure who this man was.

“I know of your relationship with Michael Myers.”

Crap.

“My what?” Her words sounded confused, despite her knowing exactly what. “Michael Myers? As in the killer?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know he’s been staying here, and you’ve been letting him. In fact, I know you’ve become quite attached to him but let me tell you this, he is evil, and doesn’t feel anything for you. I’m quite sure he’s simply here for a place to stay and will kill you when he finds another place.” Loomis’s words were sharp, he wasn’t playing around.

“I seriously don’t know what you mean. Now, I think you should leave before I call the police.” Y/N demanded, walking over to swing the front door open for him to leave.

“I’ll be back to deal with you.” He spat before having the door slammed in his face.

~

Y/N wasn’t too sure how long it had been as she was curled up on the couch, wondering what she could do.

Should she tell Michael? Should she keep it from him? How did this guy even know? Why did he want to know? What should she do?

The back door swung open, Michaels way of alerting her to his presence.

She payed on attention to the noise, simply remaining in her thoughts.

It wasn’t until he was in front of her did she finally break from those thoughts, looking up at him with such fear in her eyes, shortly followed by tears leaking from them, trickling down her cheeks.

“S-sorry.” The girl hiccupped, tilting her head in order to make her hair fall in front of her face, not wanting Michael to see her like this.

Once she realised that Michael wasn’t leaving, she glanced up.

He stood there, bloody knife still in hand as though he was preparing to attack, not her but somebody else. His masked head was tilted, the same as he did when he was confused.

“I met someone today.” Y/N’s words were quiet, not noticing the way Michaels grip on the knife tightened at the sentence, knuckles turning white as his whole body was strained with anger. “He knows you’ve been staying here. He said his name was Dr Loomis.”

Michael left.

~

That was two days ago now.

She hadn’t seen him in two days, and it was safe to say that she did miss him. And, weirdly enough, he missed her also, in his own Michael way.

She wandered the streets, unaware of the gaze focused on her and her alone. Y/N had decided on a thick jumper today which hugged her body in a way that actually provided warmth this time. Her jeans were also a source of warmth. The wind blew through her H/C locks, tossing them behind her.

She looked beautiful.

The girl had arranged to meet a friend today in order to take her mind off of Michaels disappearance.

She had let Loomis’s words get to her, assuming that he had found somebody else like he had said. But, he hadn’t killed her, not yet at least.

Her steps slowed down, eventually halting as she realised something. Something she wished she hadn’t.

She loved Michael.

She couldn’t think about this for more than ten seconds before hearing her name leave somebody’s lips behind her.

“Y/N! Hey, why’re you stood still you weirdo.” Jessica, Y/N’s friend, giggled as she jogged to catch up to her.

“Hey.” Y/N’s smile was forced, the daunting realisation from moments ago still on her mind.

“How’re you doing?” The other girls smile was not forced, genuinely happy to see her friend after three weeks.

“I’m good.” Another forced smile, “How are you?” She tensed as Jessica’s arms wrapped around her friends shoulder.

~

A relieved sigh left Y/N’s painted lips as the door closed behind her.

The thought of it being unlocked didn’t even cross her mind, desperate to get inside, change into comfy clothes and just sit down. However, those plans were stopped when she felt a rough hand tug on her elbow, turning her to face him: Loomis.

“What the fuck?” She did her best to rip her arm from his grasp but to no avail, “Let go of me you creep!” She yelled, violently tugging her arm again.

“Tell me of your relationship with Michael Myers!” Loomis yelled back, refusing to let go of her, despite how hard his grip was, both of them unaware of the fact that bruises would be left.

“I don’t have one!” Another yell from her.

“Yes you do! Where is he?”

Tears began to pour down her cheeks and Y/N wasn’t sure if it was from panic, stress or the pain in her arm.

“Please let go of me.” She whispered quietly, tears falling to the ground.

“Only if you tell me where he-“ Loomis’s words were cut short due to a stab through the heart, reminding Y/N of the way Michael and her met.

She felt the grip on her arm loosen before watching the body drop to the floor, revealing a shaking, panting Michael. “Michael…”

He was covered in blood, shaking with both anger and hatred.

How dare Loomis touch what is his.

His…?

Michaels sudden realisation was similar to Y/N earlier that day.

Michael had seen that realisation happen, however he wasn’t sure as to why she simply stopped in the middle of the street.

He wanted her to be his and his alone.

He wanted her to belong to him and him alone.

No, he needed her to.

Michael showed no sign of the internal conflict he was facing as he stood in front of her.

“Are you okay?” Her words were concerned, more worried about Michael than the pain in her arm as well as the bruising.

A simple nod from him followed by a head tilt, wordlessly asking her the same.

“I’m okay.” She gulped, unable to look him in the eyes, something which irritated him.

His annoyance was evident in his stride towards her, leaving her afraid.

She gulped again once he was in front of her, watching as his arm raised towards her, hand tightly gripping her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eyes, his eyes showing a strange emotion for him.

Trust.

They fell in love in October, and that’s why Y/N loves fall.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Ten

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains mentions of dubious medical procedures. Stay safe!]

Saying that she was in over her head would imply that, at some juncture, she had not been. Backhand couldn't recall a time when she hadn't been struggling to reach the damn surface. 

  There was so much. An entire underground compound, sprawling and winding like a rabbit warren, filled with synths and the scientists who seemed to style themselves as their betters. 

  Shaun had been the worst part about it all, if she was honest. The knowledge that it hadn't been ten years she had lost, but sixty ...and the now-elderly Shaun's bemusement at her emotional response to the child synth he had been leading her across the Commonwealth with was like a slap in the face. 

  The fact that he had the gall to suggest that she should take over the Institute once he had passed on was infuriating in its own right. Vega wanted nothing to do with any of this. She obliged him to the bare minimum. He wouldn't permit her to leave until she fully took in ' the wonders of the Institute ', everything that 'he' had built, so it was with a reluctant heart that Backhand agreed to think about the choice.

  She didn't hate the Institute. It was odd to realize that, but at the end of the day what she truly hated was the way Shaun had continued to hoard all of the advancements they had made. The lives that could have been saved, the differences he could have made in the Commonwealth-!

  Time passed strangely away from the reign of celestial bodies, simply separated into 'work cycles'. 

  Vega apparently spent the entirety of her first work cycle after arrival watching synths be created, the woman observing perfect bodies emerging disoriented from their vat of red liquid. The scientists overseeing the operation, after briefly introducing themselves, all but ignored her. For that she was grateful, because the process was equal parts fascinating and horrifying in its minutiae. 

  "Hello." One newly-formed synth said, sounding dazed when they addressed her. "I'm...new here?"

  She wanted to cry at how confused the synth looked, she wanted to cry because she knew the life they would have down here. She didn't even have the chance to offer them a word of encouragement before they were spirited away to be properly calibrated.

  Shaun came across her in the Robotics lab, her arms wrapped around her knees as she just... stared . "Ah, Mother. You will tax yourself mentally if you keep this up." Her son, who was now older than her by over forty years, scolded her in that insincere, saccharine manner. Backhand was reminded of Nate every time she heard Shaun speak. Even though he couldn't possibly have any memories of his father, his patronizing tone reeked of the casual superiority Nate had displayed in and out of the courtroom. "I have brought one of our coursers to escort you back to your room, Mother. If you would please cooperate with him."

  "Hello ma'am." The courser intoned as she looked up. "I am X6-88. It is an honor to meet the woman who helped to create Father." He was tall and dark-skinned with narrow shoulders, his body wholly sheathed in the courser uniform to mask whatever bulk he might have. He wore mirrored sunglasses, even down here. 

  Backhand thought of the courser she had to kill to tear the chip out of it and her heart dropped. X6 must know about the courser. What if they had been friends? She hesitated on that thought. Were the synths down here even permitted to form those sorts of attachments? Curie, Sturges and Nick were her only real exposure to non-hostile synths, and all of them had their own personalities, likes and dislikes. Well, Sturges wasn't entirely certain as to whether he was a synth or not, but he believed he was and that was good enough for Vega. Did synths who were still under Institute programming actually have the capacity to create those bonds with one another?

  "X6-88 is one of our finest coursers. Due to your combat history and... affinity for getting into scuffles, I assumed being in the presence of another combat-minded individual would help to put you at ease." Shaun's shrug was almost uncouth , as if he didn't particularly believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Backhand knew that the real reason he was giving a courser babysitter duty was because he didn't trust her not to meddle where she shouldn't. "The majority of the Institute is dedicated to much more lofty goals than synth retention, but why wear out the wrench with a job the hammer can perform?"

  Backhand slowly got to her feet. "Very kind of you to think of my needs." She remarked, praying her voice wasn't too flat. She had yet to get used to how Shaun spoke to the synths. Or rather, how he spoke around them. Despite his insistence that they call him Father, the elderly man treated them like objects. Tools , or furniture items. These were living, breathing, thinking beings, reduced down to nothing more than careless analogies of hammer, wrench and screwdriver. It was heartbreaking. 

  Shaun simply inclined his head, the smile on his face more of a simper. "X6, I expect you to treat my mother with the utmost courtesy. She is, after all, the future of the Institute. During the work cycles following her rest, please escort her around the facility." 

  "Of course, Father." X6 replied immediately, his face and tone entirely devoid of emotion. "If you'll follow me, ma'am."

  Backhand obediently followed X6 back out of the manufacturing laboratory, quickening her steps so she could keep up with the courser. He seemed to realize his legs were longer than hers a split second before she drew up alongside him, the synth slowing abruptly. Backhand ended up in front of him by half a step, chuckling a little as she paused and then fell in beside him.

  "Sorry, my fault." She apologized. 

  X6-88 was silent for a moment, and then muttered, "that is foolish, ma'am. Why would you be sorry about something you have no control over?" Backhand hummed, trying to think of a way to explain. X6 quickly tacked on, "not that I'm questioning you, ma'am. I know questions are unwelcome."

  Vega tilted her head, giving the man a confused look. "Unwelcome?"

  "Father has instructed us not to ask questions. He says they will disrupt you settling in." The courser answered bluntly. 

  Backhand laughed, but the noise had no humor. "I've been disrupted for months , X6-88. You can ask me whatever you like."

  "How did you do it?" X6-88 whirled on her, his tone and posture suddenly hostile. "Z2-47 was incredibly skilled. Deadly. Effective. And yet you killed him."

  Backhand nodded slowly, and she heard X6's gloves squeak with how hard he clenched his fists. 

  " How ." The courser demanded.

  "I...I don't know if I'll be able to explain it in a way you can understand." Backhand replied quietly. "Was Z2 one of your friends?"

  "I-!" X6 jerked to a halt, seeming to realize that he had raised his voice. "My apologies if I have given you the wrong impression, ma'am. I merely sought to...find the weakness you must have exploited." He practically growled through his teeth, "I meant no offense."

  "No no, you didn't offend me at all." Vega said sincerely, nearly putting her hand on his arm in a comforting manner before she reined herself in. "It's just not a conversation I would want other people to hear. Um, is my room…?"

  "We only have a short ways to go. You will explain it to me there?" X6-88 asked curtly.

  "I'll do my level best." The longest seconds in the history of man slipped by as the courser studied her from behind those sunglasses. "It's not that I doubt your intelligence or anything, I'd be an idiot to doubt your intelligence." Vega tried to elaborate after the silence grew uncomfortable. "I just don't know if I'll be able to...get the story to make sense."

  "You are allowed to do as you please, ma'am." X6 said, his voice back to that monotone. 

  Backhand shook her head ruefully. "Never mind. C'mon, before somebody gets uptight that you're looming over me."

  The courser took a hearty step back at that, his brow furrowing. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, ma'am." 

  "X6, I was in the army. You're going to have to do a lot more than that to make me uncomfortable. I'm more concerned about what someone might do to you . You know, if they think you're trying to threaten me."

  X6-88 was silent for the remainder of the walk to her quarters, which turned out to be just as sterile as everywhere else. Backhand felt extremely awkward, afraid that she would get dirt on the pristine white furniture.

  She settled gingerly into one of the chairs, gesturing to indicate that X6 should sit as well. He did so after a moment, perched on the very edge of the chair and leaning towards her. 

  Vega clasped her hands in her lap. "X6, has there ever been anyone in your life that you wanted to protect?"

  The courser responded without hesitation. "G5-19." Backhand squinted, trying to figure out why she knew that particular--oh. Oh . But X6 wasn't done. "They were efficient at performing their tasks. Helpful. Useful. An asset to the Institute." He tilted his head at her. "And weak. Poor at combat."

  "You would have done anything to keep them safe?"

  "I did everything that I could." X6-88 said sharply. "I was ineffective in the end, however."

  "Take that feeling and multiply it tenfold, and that's how I felt about Shaun. I knew that I would do everything I could to get my child back. Even if it meant I would have to take down an Institute murder machine." Backhand explained. "There was nothing to exploit, I promise. Just a sad mom's desperation to find her son. Z2-47 gave as good as he got." 

  "I find it very difficult to believe that you employed no underhanded tactics." X6 remarked. "G5 was taken via the use of a pulse grenade, so I assume you must have used something similar."

  "A pulse grenade?" Backhand asked incredulously. "Who the hell were you fighting? "

  "It was a group of raiders that found one of our salvage teams. I was away on another assignment, so I was not physically present." X6's hands gripped down on his thighs. "Had I been there, I assure you things would have played out differently." He muttered.

  "Oh no." Backhand felt a rush of sorrow, and then felt ridiculous. Untold hours ago, she had been standing in Sanctuary Hills, certain that the relay would do absolutely nothing and she would be back to square one. And yet here she was, inside the Institute, listening to a courser talking about losing someone. 

  "I am under the impression that the raiders must have tortured and killed her. Even if she did not die immediately, there is no possibility that someone as weak as her survived on the surface for very long." If Backhand didn't know better, she would have sworn that he sounded grieved. "I asked to be spinally recalibrated and have her memory removed from my processes but my request was denied."

  "Why would you want to-"

  "G5-19 is a distraction." X6-88 growled. "As a courser, I am not permitted distractions."

  "But they denied your request." Backhand repeated.

  "Correct, ma'am."

  "I don't understand why they would say you can't have distractions but then also refuse to remove them." The woman mused, resting her chin in her hand as she thought. "What's the spinal calibration process like?"

  "All synthetic cerebrospinal fluid is drained from the body, wiped of signature and then reinserted via a series of lumbar, thoracic and cervical injections." X6-88 elaborated curtly. "Posture is also corrected during the procedure, as the vertebrae must be properly aligned in order for the fluid to redistribute as intended."

  Vega got a little queasy at his description. "I'm going to assume this isn't a painless undertaking?"

  "It is extremely painful." X6's tone was flat, giving no indication of his feelings on the matter. 

  "But you would have gone through that, just to-"

  "I am an effective instrument of the Institute. If I remove distractions, I am even more effective." X6 interrupted her. "G5-19's memory does not make me more effective. Therefore it is useless to cling to it. I made the mistake of mentioning how distracting I found their memory, and Dr. Ayo wished to study the effects over a period of time. So my request was denied." The leather of his uniform made a soft noise as he shifted in the seat. "I do not prefer one over the other, but if I am not as sharp as possible, there is always an enemy willing to exploit that crack in my armor."

  Vega extended a hand and the courser stared down at it blankly. "May I?" The young woman asked, deliberately keeping her voice even and soft. X6 glanced at her over the tops of those impregnable sunglasses and Backhand was startled to see that his eyes were in fact a light, steely gray.

  "Why?" The synth queried.

  "I'm a tactile person. A lot of times I feel like it's easier to make my point if I'm connected to the person I'm speaking with."

  "I am a tactile learner as well," was all he said in reply. X6-88 didn't move, warily watching her. 

  Backhand relented after a moment, clasping her hands in her lap once more. "I just want you to know that sometimes memories aren't a bad thing, or a distraction. Like with me. Memories were all I had to get me here." She explained pragmatically. "They were my sole, driving force. I was going to get my baby back."

  "Now that you're here, and you can see all the wonders of the Institute firsthand, was it worth it?" X6-88 asked sharply. "Or would it have been better if you woke up without recollection, just another nameless Vault dweller? Can you honestly say you're better off having been reunited with your son?" He challenged her, " especially since you were under the impression that he was still a child via the ruse facilitated by Kellogg and S9-23?"

  Backhand, reeling from the courser's impromptu interrogation, nearly missed the flicker of confusion that twisted his features. She tried to formulate a response, wondering all the while why he was so bent out of shape over her being tricked.

  "I...I meant no offense, ma'am." He said slowly before she could reply. "I am not supposed to ask questions. Why would I ask so many?" He seemed troubled, muttering about needing a full calibration as, " this is getting out of hand ."

  "Look," Backhand said finally, corralling her thoughts into some semblance of order. "I can admit that I don't have all the answers. Despite what every human down here says, we're not actually all-knowing beings. But if you have questions, questions that other people can't or won't answer, I can always take a crack at 'em." She offered.

  "Ma'am, are you implying that our brilliant minds may be keeping information from me?" X6-88 said, a slight uptick in his tone indicating his incredulity.

  Vega held up her hands in an attempt to appease the courser. "Whoa whoa, I'm not saying anything like that. I'm just saying that if you feel like you're not getting the full story, you can ask me. After all, I'm a wellspring of firsthand pre-war knowledge." Her smile turned wry as she recalled Danse's words to her. "A relic, if you will."

  …

  X6-88's first question opened as a statement, oddly enough. "You do not like it down here." The courser observed as he watched her. 

  He had been like a dubiously-benevolent shadow throughout her stay, the work cycles ticking away as she soaked up the Institute's fluorescent ambiance like a sponge. "You're right." Backhand replied. No use denying it . "I don't."

  "Why not?" 

  She leaned silently on the railing overlooking the atrium for several long minutes. "I don't feel like I deserve it, I guess." She admitted softly. "I'm not made for a place like this. Hell, I didn't even feel like I deserved my spot in the Vault. Only reason I went was because of Shaun."

  "You would have died were it not for the obligation you felt towards your offspring?"

  "Well, when you put it like that …" Backhand chuckled sadly. "In a way, yes."

  "Explain."

  "I'm not a good person, X6. Back in the war, I...there's stuff I'm not proud of. I let people goad me into doing things that were out of character for me." She tried to keep it simple, a little less messy than her piecemeal recollections. "I didn't deserve to have a baby. I didn't deserve to have that second chance, that life outside the military." She stared off into space, her eyes unfocused. "I had no one else to love, so I poured all of the affection I had into caring for Shaun. I didn't have a lot after the divorce, but we had a house and food."

  "Divorce?" X6-88 sounded curious. "What were you divorced from?"

  "My husband. Shaun's father."

  "Oh, Progenitor Nathan." X6 mused. "Father has no memory of him."

  "He wouldn't. Nate wanted nothing to do with him." Vega murmured. 

  "I cannot fault him. Infants are highly unsettling." The courser said bluntly, making Backhand burst out laughing. "Ma'am, please attempt to control yourself." 

  "Of course, of course. I'm sorry, X6. I just...the way that you said it, and you being what you are, I couldn't keep my composure." The woman wheezed, grinning up at him. 

  "I'm afraid I don't understand your amusement, ma'am."

  "Well you're this deadly killing machine and yet something so innocent is something you find unnerving." 

  "I am...unused to their noise." X6-88 explained. "They are shrill. Their hunger cries are akin to torture."

  " Oh ." Backhand didn't bother trying to hide her smile. "I guess that would be a problem for you. Back before the war, there were kids everywhere . More chances for people to uh, get used to their racket."

  "That sounds like a nightmare." 

  " Everything about pre-war sounds like a nightmare to you." Backhand retorted petulantly.

  "You are correct, ma'am." X6-88's mouth curved up ever so slightly at the left corner. If she hadn't been watching, she would have missed it. "Children and heights are loathsome to me and from what I learned via browsing archival data, the pre-war world was rife with tall buildings and wailing infants." He cocked his head to look at Backhand over his sunglasses, his expression downright human . "Mankind's ivory towers and dreams of the future did them very little good."

  Backhand suddenly took note of the death grip the courser had on the railing of the balcony. 

  "G5-19 enjoyed children. She was very weak." X6 remarked reluctantly, like the words were being dragged out of him. "I still don't know what she was doing on surface detail. She had never expressed any interest in the surface. She was a simple maintenance synth."

  "I notice that you refer to her as 'she'. The rest of the coursers just call the other synths 'unit'." Backhand pointed out.

  "Another fault of the memories I am plagued by. Speech processor issues. I assign gender due to some form of...error in how I perceived her." X6 shrugged. "Doctor Ayo does not believe it is detrimental for the time being." 

  "Do you think it's because she was a real person to you?" Yikes, too direct , Backhand realized as X6-88 stiffened up. "I mean, because you got to know her. She obviously had some kind of personality that left an impression on you." She tried to amend. The courser was already in turmoil over the memories he didn't want to keep, it wasn't her place to pry.

  "She was weak." X6 seemed to default to that as a descriptor for his... friend , his brow furrowed. Backhand resigned herself to that being the end of the conversation, and then, "she was weak like you are, ma'am."

  "Like me?" The woman asked, surprised. "I don't think I understand."

  X6-88 nodded, his stony expression far from encouraging. "She wanted to help, even if it was detrimental to her. Constantly working. Truthfully, her disregard for the work cycles was what put us in touch in the first place. I was sent to find her when several jobs turned up as incomplete and I located her in a supply closet, fast asleep." He sighed heavily. "I was supposed to reprimand her and send her for recalibration. I still don't understand why I didn't. I even lied and said that I did." 

  The honesty of his admission was unsurprising to Vega; all the synths in the Institute seemed to have very few qualms about telling the truth. She imagined that must be part of their programming, so the scientists could maintain their grip on the synths that vastly outnumbered them.

  "She asked to be transferred from Facilities to Bioscience. She wanted to help, even after her request was denied. She spent all of her free time in Bioscience." His gloves squeaked on the metal bannister. "Then one day I came back from an assignment and she was...gone." He actually sounded pained now, the most emotion she had heard out of him yet. "It was a break in my routine and I do not cope well with such interruptions."

  Translation: I'm sad and I'm not allowed to be , Backhand theorized privately.

  "I would greatly appreciate it if you would not do the same." The courser said abruptly, turning to face her. "Take care of yourself, ma'am. You are, after all, the future of the Institute."

  "X6-"

  "I am being given a new assignment in the following work cycle and will no longer be responsible for you. So I will reiterate my suggestion to you." He said sternly. "Take care of yourself."

  Backhand didn't have the heart to tell the synth that a suggestion and an order were two different things. "Alright." She replied. "I'll do my best, if you promise to do the same. And I...I hope that someday you'll find that friend of yours."

  "Doubtful. But I appreciate the sentiment, ma'am." X6 inclined his head, and then departed. 

  …

  With X6 out in the field, Vega felt like she could finally get down to business. She had a veritable laundry list of to-dos, and she had no idea how long she had even been down here for. 

  There was sneaking into the old branch of Bioscience for the serum to cure Virgil. It was surprisingly simple despite the security measures, to the point where Backhand was almost suspicious .

  Then there was the holotape Sturges had given her to scan the Institute network, easily managed. " I'll be makin' copies of it. I imagine my boy Johnny D. will be mighty interested in what the suits have been up to, and then of course one for your friends in the Brotherhood ." He had informed her right before she had relayed, pressing the tape into her hands. 

  Next there was a bit of a...pet project. X6 had mentioned that his friend (alive and well, unbeknownst to him, functioning as Curie's new body) had expressed no real interest in the surface to the courser, and yet had somehow ended up on a salvage patrol. That sounded like a scheme. A well-meaning scheme. It was possible that there was a scientist sympathetic to the plight of the more self-aware synths.

  Her gentle inquiries put her back in touch with a scientist by the name of Doctor Alan Binet, whom she had met during the first work cycle she spent in the Institute. He worked in Robotics, supervising the creation of synths from the ground up.

  He was delighted to exposit upon his theories of synth cognitive capabilities. The good doctor had apparently witnessed synths experiencing REM sleep, and that fueled him to study their behavior even closer than before. Because if they could dream, why couldn't they have a soul as well?

  But strangely, he seemed adamant in the stance that he would never release the synths to the surface, stating that it was a living hellscape. Backhand couldn't exactly refute his claims either.

  Vega left Robotics stumped and defeated. If not the man who was performing social experiments with the synths, then who?

  She left it alone for the time being, moving on to her last, arguably most important objective. 

  Convincing one Doctor Madison Li to take up her Brotherhood mantle once more.

Part Eleven

[fromthefishbowl]

I saw some of the answers on that post you made about Nicky being called "the white man" and honestly...the world doesn't revolve around how Americans perceive it. As a European who has experienced racial and ethnic discrimination across European countries and in the US too, it upsets me so much when people don't even bother to understand that it's different. It's as if only the US definition of white matters. Sorry for barging into your asks, all the discourse about tales through time reminded me about the overwhelmingly American takes in the tog fandom. Anyway, I also wanted to say I completely agree with your latest post on some of the takes on Nicky's character (the heteronormative change the abuser through love ones are... particularly awful).

I don’t even want to look at them, honestly. I know that one of them was written by the same person who referred to Joe as being a “black” man, and just knowing that was enough for me. That’s just not how it works, and it’s a desperate attempt at making characters who have nothing to do with Anglo/American views of the world fit into boxes created specifically by Anglos/Americans.

Also, it was meant to be a light-hearted joke and I wasn’t expecting it to exceed 10 notes being very generous. I guess I should’ve expected it, considering the state of this fandom, but... holy shit, and just by scrolling through them a lot of them seemed angry too.

You are not the only one who finds the entirety of the fandom taken almost hostage (exaggerated tone) by a very American mentality, to the point that a lot of European people seem to want to adhere to it because it simply makes them fit better.

I hate how they stereotype them both, trying to make them fit into very heteronormative roles, and how they think that making Joe the dumb damsel in distress who at the same time can only be saved by an extremely abusive and ignorant Nicky is the only way to represent Joe correctly (because it always seems to be about Joe, rarely about Nicky - or about any other character).

[love-fireflysong]

Day 20: Dare

Fandom: Until Dawn Character(s): Beth Washington, Josh Washington, Hannah Washington Words: 1728 Rating: General (minor language, plans to poison your best friends and yourself!) Author’s Notes: Super late holy shit. But it’s fine. Have some cookies. Just don’t take any from Josh...

This fic is not sponsored by Dare Cookies. Honestly, that’s probably a good thing.

When Beth walked into the kitchen that morning, to say that she had not expected the sight before her would not be a lie. There were many things she anticipated seeing when walking into her kitchen, Josh covered head to toe in white powder was not one of them. Well, that was a lie actually. Truthfully, Josh was exactly the type of person she could see running a secret coke lab, just not from the family kitchen. At least, she really hoped not. Reporting her brother for running a cocaine lab in the middle of their kitchen was not what she intended to start her day with.

“Are you, are you covered in flour?”

While Josh didn’t move from where he was standing at the counter, he did look over his shoulder at her affronted. “Um excuse me. This is cornstarch, not flour. Learn the difference Beth, god.” He gave a disdainful sniff, and then proceeded to sneeze violently into his arm.

Beth rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Cornstarch. Why in the world are you covered in cornstarch then.”

“Making cookies.”

Beth just stopped to stare at her brother with narrowed eyes, mouth opening and closing as she tried to find some form of words, only to groan and rub at a spot between her eyes. Words were quite literally failing her right now, and she didn’t even know where to start.

“Hey Beth, what’s taking so long—why is Josh covered in flour?”

Beth turned to see Hannah behind her, who stopped to stare at Josh in turn. Before she could figure out how to even start answering her question, Josh had butted in with exasperation. “It’s cornstarch, people! God, does no one in this house know what basic fucking baking supplies look like?”

Beth ignored Josh, an easy feat when he’s been part of their everyday lives since before they could talk, and gave her twin a flat, unimpressed look. “He’s making cookies. Apparently.”

Hannah’s forehead creased in confusion. “But, cookies don’t need cornstarch...”

Beth nodded slowly in agreement, her next words coming out as a tired sigh. “They also don’t need soy sauce, mustard, and mayo, and yet, here we are.”

True to her words, surrounding Josh on all available surfaces were bags upon bags filled to the brim with numerous bottles of soy sauce, mayonnaise, and two(!) kinds of mustard. All of this was ignoring the dozen boxes of cookies scattered around the kitchen and the roughly four bags filled with cornstarch alone. There were questions out there that Beth never wanted the answers too, and this right here was roughly seven of them.

Unfortunately for her, Hannah didn’t share the same thoughts. “Do I want to know what kind of cookies you’re making?”

“No, no you don’t. I don’t want to know. Neither of us want to know. So let’s just grab our shit from the fridge and get back upstairs where it’s safe.”

Josh ignored Beth just as easily as she did him earlier, instead reaching over to grab one of the bottles of soy sauce and proceeded to dump almost the entirety of it into what she hoped was a bowl. A bowl of what, she didn’t want to know. “Special cookies, Han. For three very special people.”

“...if those cookies are for us, I will end you here and now Josh, don’t think I won’t.”

Josh snorted as he lifted his whisk to inspect the consistency of his soy sauce/cornstarch concoction. “Oh please Beth. We both know that you could probably snap me like I twig.” He grimaced for a second, seemingly unhappy with the thickness, and added some more cornstarch. He coughed at the rising cloud of white that erupted from the bowl. “Nah, these are for me, Chris, and Ash later.”

“Alright. Gonna be honest here. Was not expecting to have to call the police because there was a murder-suicide pact tonight.”

“Sad thing is, probably the least exciting call they’ll ever have coming from our house.” Hannah gave a long-suffering sigh as she reached for one of the empty boxes of cookies on the table nearby, this one Ultimate Maple Creme.  “Is there a reason you bought like, a million boxes of four different flavours of cookies?”

Josh shrugged nonchalantly at the question, and reinspected his brown sludge. Happy now with the results, Beth and Hannah watched him reach of a plate of what they recognized to be the cookie halves of the Ultimate Fudge Chocolate. “We’re playing truth or dare tonight.”

Hannah held up the empty box of Dare brand cookies higher. “I don’t think that when people play truth or dare, they mean the cookie brand.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you don’t share my brilliance. See, this is how we can tell that I was the only one who got any imagination in this family.” Josh started to carefully take his thick sludge and began to ice the cookies with them.

Hannah was a little more hesitant with her next question. “What exactly are you doing to all these cookies anyways?” Once again, not a question Beth wanted the answer to.

This time, Josh did fully turn to face the two of them, and oh boy was he a sight. He was almost completely covered in cornstarch with random flecks of soy sauce and mustard covering his hands and the apron he had probably stolen from the home-ec room at school. In one arm was a bowl filled with what Beth assumed to be the unholy amalgamation of soy sauce and cornstarch and the other held the whisk, covered in said mixture. The large, maniacal grin on his face and insane look in his eyes was enough to complete the image that their brother had officially snapped. “Oh, am I glad you asked, Han! You see, this is where my brilliance comes into play! I am slowly and painstakingly replacing the creme in every single one of these cookies with my own!” He waved the whisk wildly and Beth backed up to hopefully avoid the spray of brown, but it was thick enough that nothing actually flew thankfully.

Beth hated herself for the words coming out of her mouth, but they were out into the world before she knew it. “And what kind of cream is that?”

Josh changed the tone of his voice so resembled that of a teacher giving a lecture. “It changes for every cookie of course, but they all start with the same cornstarch/water base as a thickener. From there, it all changes! For the maple, I add some dijon mustard for color. Chocolate gets soy sauce. Lemon, just a smidgen of regular mustard.” Josh turned back to the row of chocolate cookies on the counter. “And the coconut gets mayo, simply because an icing of just cornstarch is boring and I am not all about that life.”

“Kind of making it sound that your not all about life in general right now.”

Josh didn’t give much of an answer other than a shrug. “That’s because you don’t understand my genius.”

“Evil genius more like.”

“Is there any better?”

God help her, but Hannah moved closer to watch over Josh’s shoulder as he continued to ice the cookies. “And what are you doing with the normal fillings?”

Without looking, Josh pointed towards a couple of containers to the left of him. “Failures and fillings are over there if you want them.”

Beth was definitely more then a little hesitant when she looked in the bowl of ‘failures’. Only to sigh in relief at the sight of what was just a bowl of broken cookies that Josh hadn’t managed to separate properly. Which wasn’t a surprise. These weren’t exactly Oreo’s he was dealing with, so it was probably harder to split these without one or both sides of the cookie shattering. The other container was just filled with maple and chocolate creme centers as he promised. She reached into the first bowl and picked out a maple one that was missing about a third of the cookie on top, popping it into her mouth as she handed Hannah a similar chocolate one.

“Surprised that these are even here. Thought you would have eaten every single mistake.”

The look that Josh gave her was so unimpressed that she almost choked on the cookie in surprise. “Beth. I have been at this for literally hours. Trust me, I got sick of these things like two hours ago. There were so many mistakes.”

Hannah stuck her hand in a bowl to grab another broken chocolate fudge, but carefully added some of the discarded maple creme on top. “So how exactly is this game supposed to work? Whenever someone picks dare they have to eat a cookie?”

Josh shook his head in clear disappointment as he gestured at himself. “Oh Hannah. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Once again, only one who has any imagination, right here.” He returned back to his tray of cookies, carefully placing the other half back on top of the soy sauce creme, cleaning up any that leaked over the edge as he did so. “Of course not. It’s very simple really. Someone picks either truth or dare, and the person asking asks their question or gives their demand. The fun comes in refusing! If anyone refuses to either answer the truth or do the dare, then they have to eat a cookie as repentance.”

Beth watched Josh put the tray of now completed ‘chocolate fudge’ cookies into the fridge to harden as she ate a piece of maple creme from the bowl. She noticed that there was already a couple of other trays in the fridge and made a note to warn Sam not to touch a single cookie when she came over later in the afternoon. “And are Chris and Ashley aware that there are going to be cookies?”

“Nope.”

She sighed. “Are they even aware that they’re gonna be playing truth or dare tonight?”

“Nope.” 

The pop of the p was so self-satisfied that Beth turned to look at Hannah, but saw that she was already on her phone before she could open her mouth.

“Already putting Poison Control on speed dial.”

“Probably a good idea honestly.” Josh didn’t even pause from grabbing the four boxes of lemon creme’s, another four containers of cornstarch, and two bottles of regular mustard as he replied.

[jootsmcgoots]

Like the Sun and the Sea (Abbacchio x F!Reader) SFW

So of course the first fic that goes up during my Fanfic Writer Appreciation fic-posting spree is, well, the very first fic I wrote for this fandom.

This was my very first work for JJBA and it was based off of a match-up i got from @headoverjojo (Sorry to tag you again Tricia ^^; while i’m here tho, love ur work and all that you do!) It was my very first match-up and I still remember it extremely fondly ;w; So here we are again boys to throw the first baby back onto this blog. 

I’m not gonna repost the matchup because I abandoned my old blog due to personal and safety reasons, but the tl;dr is that I got Abbacchio and I was like “wow that’s neat I didn’t see that coming but hell yeah i’m down to clown!”

And so I wrote a fic based off of it.

I’ve written way more work since and I can see the bits of my style that I kinda miss or feel like I’ve lost in a way, but at the same time I’m proud to have come as far as I have. I don’t really write that much (as I only write on a ‘when i feel like it’ basis), but I can see where I have improved. 

More on that later. We’re here to read cute shit now.

===========

Rating: General

Genre: Fluff

Word count:  2194

Summary: You spend a nice quiet day at the beach with Abbacchio after everything that happened with Diavolo.

Except you’re a big dumb and your boyfriend is a big grump, so things hardly stay quiet.

Banter, fluff, and shenanigans at the beach.

AO3 Link!

The gentle crash of waves, the distant cawing of seagulls, and the wind brushing past you were some of the few noises that you registered as you sat on the beach in relative silence. You absent-mindedly drew some random doodles in the sand with your finger while you waited for Abbacchio to come back from the car with the ice box.

The two of you had decided to take some time off together and decided to spend the day at the beach. It was currently vacant, as the spot you had chosen was a little out-of-the way and not very well-known. But for the two of you, it was perfect. After all, you simply wanted a bit of quality alone time with your lover; he deserved at least that much after what he had gone through with Diavolo.

You recalled the memory with a shudder and shook your head. Pressing harder, you sketched more lines into the sand to distract yourself. Sure, the journey wasn’t pleasant for anyone involved; you’d had a few close scrapes and near brushes with death yourself. But the very thought of Abbacchio’s near-miss with the boss sent shivers down your spine. You didn’t even want to begin to think about what could have happened to him.

Thankfully, your thoughts were interrupted by the soft thump of the ice box against the sand. You looked up to see Abbacchio setting it down and rising back to his full height to survey the scenery in front of him.

“Not too heavy?” you asked, tilting your head at him. He looked back to you and scoffed at your words.

“Of course not.”

“Still, I told you I could help...” Even though you knew Abbacchio was probably the most physically fit member of the gang and could probably handle the ice box just fine, you always felt bad whenever it felt like everyone else was doing all the work.

“I can handle it by myself.” He bent to ruffle your hair a bit, to which you couldn’t help but give soft laugh. “And anyways, I don’t know how much help a little twerp like you would have been.”

“Hey now, I might be littler than you, but you know I’m stronger than I look!” You offered a confident look on your face that made Abbacchio chuckle. While you rummaged around the box for a drink, he looked down and stared at the drawings you had made in the sand.

Abbacchio raised a brow. “What are those? Is that one supposed to be me?” You mumbled out an affirmative as you took a swig from the juice bottle you had selected.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you responded, “Yeah. I was bored while I was waiting for you. See, that’s you,” you pointed at the grumpy face with long hair that pointed upwards at the ends. “Bruno, Trish, Mista, Fugo, Narancia, Giorno, and me.” You pointed to each drawing as you listed off the names, one by one.

Crouching down, he inspected the crude drawings and hummed. “Do you always do dumb little things like this when I’m away?”

You huffed at him, indignant. “They’re not stupid!”

“They’re stupid and ugly,” he shot back, egging you on.

With a short “Ha!”, you responded, “I’d like to see you do better.”

“Maybe on a proper medium.”

“Ehh? Art is art. It doesn’t matter what medium it’s on. And anyways, art is subjective! I think you’re just being an ass.”

Abbacchio just chuckled in response as he sat down next to you on the towel, staring out at the ocean. Not saying much, he chose to just enjoy this moment with you. Then he felt you plunk your head down onto his shoulder, leaning on him while you puffed your cheeks out in that adorably huffy way. He reached for your hand, which had been resting in your lap, and moved to lace his fingers with yours. Abbacchio smiled to himself when you offered no resistance and in fact eagerly reciprocated the gesture, holding his hand in yours on your lap.

A moment passed before you broke the silence. “Well, it’s fine. It’s not as if my drawing skills are what…drew you to me.” Your face split into a stupid grin as you heard Abbacchio groan in exasperation.

“Ah great, here we go…” You heard him say, and you turned to see Abbacchio tilting his head backwards in annoyance.

“You’re just envious because I’m quicker on the draw when it comes to these things.” The grin on your face grew wider as you returned your gaze back to the sea. You didn’t even have to look at his face to know that he was grimacing now.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) please.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so draw-matic about it! I’m just having fun!”

The last one earned you an even louder, even more annoyed groan. “Really?” he deadpanned, unamused. You merely flashed him a cheeky smile full of teeth and giggled as he released your hand to pinch his brow in annoyance.

Once you had come down from laughing at your own jokes, you took a breath and continued. “I swear, it’s amazing that you haven’t thrown yourself into the ocean after all of these dumb jokes,” you said with that stupid, cute sunny smile of yours. He both adored it and wanted to smack it straight off your face. “Honestly! I would have expected you to go into one of your fits by now.”

He snorted and began to stand, a wicked idea coming to him. “Why would I do that,” Abbacchio said the words slowly, and suddenly you felt his hands grabbing for you. In a swift movement, he had you hoisted into his arms as you squeaked in response to suddenly being lifted and being much higher up than you were before. “When I can just get rid of the nuisance myself?”

And with that, he began striding towards the shore with you in his arms. You kicked, struggled, and squirmed the entire way while pleading to him in-between your laughter.

“Leone! Leone, no! Don’t! Leone Abbacchio, you wouldn’t dare!”

Alas, your struggle was futile as he kept an inescapable hold on your wriggling form and your complaints fell on deaf ears as your boyfriend waded out into the shallower waters, deemed his position to be a sufficient launching point, and chucked your screaming form into the air. You soared a short distance before plummeting straight into the deeper waters with a large, satisfying splash.

Waves lapping at his shins, Abbacchio stared at where you landed in quiet amusement while you emerged from the water, splashing and gasping for air. Even then, you couldn’t help but give him an incredulous laugh. “What was that for?” You shouted from the waves. He huffed, calling back, “You know damn well what it was for.”

You pouted and made a whining noise. “That’s mean! What if I drowned or something? That would be on your conscience forever, you know.”

Abbacchio merely shook his head at you, a grin of his own forming on his lips. “Well, at least if you drowned, I would never have to deal with your stupid jokes ever again,” he teased. You feigned shock and hurt with a dramatic gasp.

“Yeah? Well, I’d just come back as a ghost and then you’d never ever be free of me.” You wiggled your fingers in a way that was meant to be spooky or creepy. “I would do nothing but whisper puns into your ear all night.”

“Then I would just ignore you and pretend that I never noticed you. Then you would be left haunting me the rest of my life, but would feel alone for the entirety of it.”

“Whaaat!” You drew out the word. “You’re such a mean boyfriend.”

He threw you a somewhat smug look. “Am I?”

You pouted and idly splashed around in the deeper parts of the water for a bit before a dumb idea surfaced in your mind. “Okay, let’s test it then!” you proclaimed in a cheery voice, and put on the highest, cutesiest voice you could muster.

“Oh no, Weone! Pwease hewp me! I’m dwowning!”

You could see Abbacchio tense up in annoyance in response to your antics. It was subtle, but you could see his lips flatten into an expression of irritation. You knew he hated that joke, but you pressed on.

“Pwease Mr. Abbacchio! Pwease hewp! I’m dwowning!” You couldn’t hold back your giggles anymore as you kept pleading to him in an obnoxious, sing-songy voice. “W-Weone! Weone, I’m dwowning! The water is wising! Ub-bwub-gwub! I won’t wast wong!” At this point, your words started to peter out as you had fallen into full-blown peals of laughter that filled the sky as you struggled to keep your eyes open from the tears forming in them.

Which is probably why you hadn’t noticed Abbacchio wading out farther and farther into the water where you were until you noticed your surroundings getting darker and felt him firmly grasp the back of your head. He held you there for a moment, and, without missing a beat, you threw him a sultry look and commented, “Oh. I wasn’t aware you were into…underwater sports.”

Abbacchio scowled slightly at you, muttering, “Ugh, (Y/N), you immature, little…” You could see his brow crinkle further in annoyance as you tittered in sheer amusement at your own dumb joke. Before you could make an inappropriate joke about regular “watersports”, you felt your head being forced downwards. His annoyed expression was the last thing you saw before Abbacchio roughly dunked your face into the water and held you underwater for a moment, watching the bubbles rise up to the surface. After a second, he raised your head up from the water, gave you another second to breathe, and then dunked you once more.

“Aughh--!” SPLOOSH!

“Leo--!” SPLOOSH!

“Come on---!” SPLOOSH!

“It was just---!” SPLOOSH!

“A joke!” SPLOOSH!

Once you had ceased all talking and were reduced to coughing, sputtering, and the occasional giggle, Abbacchio released his grip on your head and settled his hand on your shoulder as you leaned up against him. You were still giggling from your own shenanigans, as well as the sudden rush of playful (albeit somewhat rough) actions from your boyfriend.

He sighed out, “You really are a silly idiot. What am I going to do with you?” Despite the bite in the words themselves, you heard the teasing and loving tones in his voice and smiled to yourself.

You peered up at him, slicking back some of the hair that was covering your eyes. “Apparently you’ll throw me into the ocean like some sort of cursed object, and then dunk me in the water several times. What kind of boyfriend does that? Do I look like a Lebowski? Do you want me to tell you where the money is?” you quipped with an impudent grin that only grew wider when you saw his expression crack into a grin of his own as he shook his head at you once more.

Then you felt the hand on your shoulder dip lower to your back as Abbacchio pushed you close to him, pulling his arms around you into a hug. You shuddered as a pleasant warmth enveloped you, contrasting against the cool water you two were standing in.

“Hmm? Haha, Leone…” you breathed out. “What’s this all about?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Pffft. To you, everything I say is stupid. So I get to say damn well what I please.”

“Hmm.” He seemed to ponder your statement. “That sounds about right. So, fair enough.”

“You asshole.”

During your exchange of words, you had wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly in a hug of your own.

“Hey, Leone?”

“Hm?”

“I love you. I really do. I’m glad that you’re here.” Your grip on him had grown tighter at these words.

Abbacchio closed his eyes for a moment, committing the feeling of your arms around him to his memory. In those seconds where you two just held each other in silence, the water splashing against him gently, he began to think to himself. After everything that had happened, he was glad to be able to spend this time with you like this, to be able to listen to your silly jokes, to be able to just banter and tease each other like this, to see the corners of your eyes crinkle with mirth and your lips turn upwards into an unashamed, jubilant smile that would give way to a laugh that would cause his heart to flutter and threaten to cause his lips to pull into a small smile of his own (no matter how unamused his reaction seemed to be).

You were a stupid little fool, bright and brilliant. And you loved him.

He hummed affirmatively in response.

His voice came out as a low rumble that you could feel emanating from his chest. “I love you too.” And his heart blossomed with warmth when he opened his eyes to see you smiling widely at him, for him. 

[koholinthibiscus]

My Tumblr Journey and mental health

What the hell is this?  Where am I? What do I do and how do I do it?

You often hear of people getting to their 30′s and feeling more comfortable in their skin and just owning, accepting and loving themselves.  Well, maybe it’s because I need psychotherapy, and maybe it’s because I’ve come into adulthood in a period with huge economic and political upheaval as well as a pandemic; but I don’t feel that way.  I feel simultaneously old and young.  clueless about young things (like tmblr) and clueless about old things (like mortgages... even though I have one) 

I’ve deleted Facebook and use twitter sparingly these days so the reason joined this site is to purely vent.  To write my thoughts out and send them into the internet ether to languish, probably ignored.  But just getting it out might make all the difference to my physical and mental well being so I’m just going to give it a shot and see where things go. 

I feel terribly alone and isolated.  I have a type of social anxiety that you probably wouldn't notice.  You might just think I’m an idiot or a bitch.  You might barely acknowledge my existence.  I’m pretty average so I may not register.  But when I’m done talking I will think and think and think about it.  How did I come across?  why the fuck did I say that?  You think I’m a fucking idiot don’t you?  I will simply torture myself forever and ever.  And I avoid social interaction, especially with new people, as much as I can.  I can just about manage in a workplace setting but all my energy for this is taken up with that. 

I feel unheard, unseen and unsatisfied.  I feel a lump in my throat and a weight in my chest.  I feel exhausted and headachey most of the time.  I can’t bear this current situation.  I have a visceral hate for my country.  I can’t bear sad news.  I can’t cope with news that implicates humans as ignorant, unsympathetic, inhumane creatures.  I feel deep sadness at the existential threat our planet faces and confusion and sadness when I realise that barely anyone in my real life feels the same urgency and guilt.  I have changed my lifestyle (probably not enough) to try and alleviate the guilt but it hasn’t worked.  

So I get into things to try and distract myself; fandoms, stories, subjects, video games, novels and I feel sad about it because I feel useless “not good at it” or that they’re a waste of time.  I hate myself so much that my hobbies make me sad. How stupid is that?  I’ve recently been getting into DnD during lock down and watching critical role.  I enjoy it but it makes me sooooo sad and jealous that I don’t have a strong friend group like that who can enjoy playing DnD with the same level of fun, ease and camaraderie.  It literally hurts my heart and I’ve been feeling weird for days.  So I’ve tried to make myself better by consuming things.  I’ve bought a new set of dice and bought some unrelated books.  

I skip from one subject or thing to the next feeling unsatisfied and discontent.  I don’t practice things, I don’t finish things.  I give up. And I feel like I’m giving up at life. I am lazy and stupid.  My hobbies, likes and interests feel like a plaster over a gaping wound and was working but it’s not any more. Getting lost in a fantasy world just makes me feel sad I can’t create my own or be with a group of friends, either on line or on person where I can create together. 

I am petrified of parent hood.  I have an amazing 3 year old.  She is a marvel. But I have a constant dread of failing her. Doing too much, doing too little.  I want her to strive for happiness.  Take on hard things, work at things till she’s good at them, whatever it may be.  I honestly don’t care what as long as she enjoys it, has a passion for it and is ultimately happy.  I want to push her, but I don’t want to push her too much.  I worry about sending wrong messages.  I worry about not doing enough with her.  I do not want to bring her up the way that my mother brought me up. I am terrified of repeating the same mistakes. 

I’m ultimately a kind person who is trying their best but can’t unleash my true potential due to depression, anxiety and self-confidence issues.  I get so angry and sad at people who don’t follow the same ideals as me.  which.... isn’t ideal.  I can’t stand TERFs, racists, ableists, misogynists, right wing people, climate change deniers, ignorant people.  I can’t stand it when people think that poor people only have themselves to blame.  I hate capitalism and colonialism.  I want to change the way the world operates even if it is to my detriment as a white CIS English women living in comfort.  I feel trapped in suburbia where nothing changes and no one looks or is different.  

I don’t mean to fetishize certain communities with that statement and I reliaze that it’s probably ignorant of me to suggest that everyone is the same too, given that I struggle to interact with people.  And I’m not suggesting that I’m some sort of special flower  or that ‘I’m not like other women’ (eeww) either, I know there are people out there I would probably get on with but like I say, I struggle.

It frustrates me when people don’t feel the same way politically.  I think that people’s politics are based on their morals so I struggle with conservatives for example.  I don’t understand them or where they come from.  I want things that people need to be owned by the public and free at the point of access, healthcare being the main one and I fear for the future of the NHS.  Yes, even if it means higher taxes (but I obviously want the super rich taxed more) I don’t believe billionaires should exist.  I want universal basic income.  If the human race keeps breeding, if we keep suffering from pandemics, if we progress technologically to the point where mechanization is even more prevalent, we will not need people to have jobs.  We need UBI to level the playing field.  And I want a vegan world.  All of the above makes my head swim with anger and despair.  What type of world will my child have to endure when she gets to my age?  I fucking hope it’s better than this.  I can honestly say that I believe I am on the right side of history with my politics.  It is ultimately about being kind and humane.  But no... I’m probably seen as a soft SJW snowflake keyboard warrior twat by my family (which is why I went off facebook).  Even though I have a masters in Gender studies and a career in social justice work, but sure, I’m just after the ‘internet points’ or want to look ‘woke’.  I feel like not many people truly know me and if they do know all of the above and don’t like what  they see,  I don’t know man, that kills me.  I want people to think well of me. I want people to think I am a good person. 

I could yap on for ages about this honestly but it would make little sense.

I think I wanted to start this as a place to get my feelings down because I am starting a journey of therapy soon.  My sessions should begin in September but I feel the need to get stuff out now.  I’m having a bit of a shit time in my head right now and I felt like I would burst. 

I’m already worried that I will appear stupid and self centered.  There is nothing particularly wrong with my life.  I have a good job that I love but am also petrified of it and of getting it wrong so I self sabotage, worry and don’t believe in my abilities and I’ve been doing that since college.  (I need to un pack how I feel about work and my actions around it, I have a lot of thoughts, maybe for another time) 

I pick the spots on my face till they become angry red welts, I pick the skin around my nails till they get infected and then I hate myself for how I look, even though it was my fault in the first place.  I don’t shower, don’t wash my face, don’t get enough sleep then look in the mirror and see my greasy lank hair, baggy grey eyes and bad skin and I just hate myself.  Is this an analogy for the entirety of my personality? I am my own worst enemy and I need to give myself a fucking break.  Easier said than done. 

Things to unpack in therapy: 

My work 

My politics and how I interact, deal with people who don’t feel the same way as me

My child hood and family dynamics - It’s fucked up y’all. 

My Child

My husband 

My past relationship

The sick thing I do at night when i think about horrible things, like the death of my child for no god damn reason. (Is it punishment?) 

It’s frustrating being so aware of my issues and not feeling able to do anything about it. 

It’s probably an effect of lock down but I have been feeling really bad consistently for a very long period of time now and it’s exhausting.  I always have peaks and troughs, feel great to OK for sometimes a good few months then it just comes down on me like a bag of hammers and I feel like death for 2-4 weeks.  

I’ve been having those hiccups more often and for longer.  I’m so fucking tired man.  A couple of months ago a I had a terrible headache for 4 days, could barely move and felt tearful all the time.  I just thought it was a migraine attack at the time (which I very very rarely have) but I coincided with a particular event that I’m not ready to talk about (It’s really not that juicy it’s quite fucking pathetic actually) and I think it was a major depressive episode. 

I think I’m done now, I’m emotionally exhausted after reading this through and my throat hurts from trying not to cry.  Maybe this is the start of my tumblr journey maybe I’ll delete it all in a few days I don’t know.  I had to try something. 

[kunstpause-archive]

Bitter asks

found it in the depths of my drafts again - tagged by absolutely noone but we’re doing this regardless and bc I have not suffered enough we will do it for Dragon Age

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

Tbh I don’t get the Sera/Dagna thing? It feels like a lazy “pair up the spare” pairing to me. 

Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?

Dorian & Bull tbh. Their flirting banters are weird and don’t click for me but I could see them as close friends rather than an otp

Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

oh hell yes. 

Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

Aveline/Isabela - I nope out of that fast and probably block everything around it. And a popular one to a degree... but  that’s the next question already

Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

Solavellan. The fandom around it has mostly been a complete shitshow in the past few years. The amount of creepy teacher/student fics I stumbled upon and just the way this fandom goes overboard with the wolf/halla symbolic in the creepiest way possible... Just a big yikes for me.

I think I trust about 3 authors with that pairing and no one else.

Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

I didn’t necessarily hate any pairing. Fandom has made me interested in combinations of characters I never thought about though. 

Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

The concept of Bioware’s “grey morality” - veeeeeery in the beginning (we are talking about 2009 here) I thought it was a nifty idea.

Then I realised Bioware doesn’t have the chops good enough to bring nuance across and they don’t actually understand what grey morality is...

Have you received anon hate? What about?

ahaha... about everything from shipping things wrongly, disliking your fav, not treating canon as the be all end all, being a self indulgent wish fullfiller to simply not liking a character. It#s why I dipped out of fandom space for years  

Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Oghren bc anyone who is regularly drunk triggers my flight reflex

Aveline bc of all the shit she says

Most disliked arc? Why?

“Who the fuck is Mythal?” But basically the entirety of the writing in DAI with the exception of very few scenes.

Don’t get me started on this awful, horrible cultish sing-along everyone loves so much. As someone who spent over half her life getting away from a very oppressive church/cult upbringing that scene was absolutely horrific.

Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

Blackwall. He got the redemption arc people like to pretend Cullen got...

Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

I love the fade bits in DAO? idk why anyone would want to skip it.  Storywise: I don’t wanna side with them but I think the templar questline in DAI is better written than the mage one. Sue me.

Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

I think nothing is unpopular in this fandom, not with the amount of fighting going on all the time... ;)

Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

Most people in this fandom (much like the Bioware writers really) have no idea how trickster gods work and have zero understanding about polytheistic religions and it shows...

Unpopular opinion about the manga/show/game?

It peaked with Dragon Age 2...

If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

Hire a more diverse writing team

Does not shipping something ‘popular’ mean you’re in denial and/or biased?

Sometimes it just means you have good taste... ;) 

What is the purest ship in the fandom?

idk, I don’t care much for pure and uwu stuff.

What are your thoughts on crack ships?

Wonderful! Fandom needs more of them

I also am in constant danger of turning a joke into something I actually ship so that is a very fine line to walk.

Popular character you hate?

Hat is far too strong a word. I refuse to get that invested into this whole thing. If I actually hate something it’s a sign for me to take a step back

But dislike because of the way they are written in game and/or the popular fandom interpretation, there are quite a few actually. I think you can guess.

Unpopular character you love?

Loghain. Don’t get me started!

Would you recommend XXX to a friend? Why or why not?

Yes - with a few choice words of warning

Most shippable character?

tbh the player characters? Maybe Cassandra, because everyone could become a better person by having more Cassandra in their life!

Least shippable character?

see most disliked character...

tagging @curiousthimble, @edencalder, @knallbart @elveny and whomever wants to do it!

Feel free to change fandoms or ignore - the usual disclaimer :D

[laufire]

Some things I’ve received during my hiatus, and that it’s related to some worrying patterns I’ve seen recently on tumblr, have made me want to clarify a point. I’ve debated whether to put some of it behind a cut, since +1000 is on the longish-side, but fuck it. I think it’s important --or at least, important that you know this about me--, it makes me angry, and you’ll just have to scroll past it. And it’s a topic I’ll probably talk more about in the future, since it genuinely concerns me, even if not specifically in the same way or focusing on the same things I do here, so you might wanna be mindful of that *shrugs*.

I do not give a single fuck about whether B*llarke is “problematic”, or toxic, or abusive, or “immoral to ship” in any way. And the same can be said about literally every pairing. And if you ever try to harass anyone with those arguments (or any other, but I hope that goes without saying) --including shippers of my NOTPs--, I guarantee you, you won’t have me on your side.

Sure, I don’t like seeing it (and plenty of other ships) on my dash; that’s what filters are for. There are ships whose existence I prefer to ignore in its entirety, and I plan on forgetting them for the rest of my life.

In BC’s case, in particular, I –obviously, if you’ve read this blog– don’t want it to become canon. The way I see it, it’s a crack-ship (and not a very interesting one, AFAIC) between a character I like and a character I dislike, that’s entirely based on misrepresenting canon. Why would I care? But IMO the writers dislike the ship itself, so why would I worry either?

On top of that, I’m rooting for Bellamy’s narrative to be the dominant narrative (not as much for Bellamy himself –thought that’s a nice bonus–, but because it inevitably benefits my favourite characters: Raven, Murphy, Emori, Echo and Octavia), and the show has proven that’s antithetical to Clarke’s narrative prevailing (there’s a reason why every single season has put them at odds, in ways that effectively risk each other’s happiness, health and life). Historically speaking, things don’t end well for male leads that are put in romantic situations with women they haven’t chosen and put moves on by their own accord, and there’s plenty of evidence in canon that Bellamy doesn’t see Clarke in a romantic light –and it’s telling that, in fact, the writers CHOSE to cut out the one moment that could’ve hinted at it, back in season one.

Lastly, as I said, I think the writers themselves dislike the ship; not just aren’t interest in writing it, but actively dislike it. The first piece of evidence (if you plan on ignoring everything they’ve said about it, which already backs this opinion) is, frankly, that it hasn’t happened. Ships well-liked by the writers and supported by the narrative happen fast; lightning-fast in some cases. They likely don’t stay together, because narratives tend to follow a path of separation before the last-minute endgame (which might not happen; endgames aren’t a guarantee, even if there clearly are ships with better odds than others; BC, IMO, is the LEAST likely endgame possible out of all of them), but you better bet that dude is making his interest known ASAP.

Of course, writers in all of history of TV have written ships that they disliked, or at least ships that they only saw as filler and not “endgame material” (though I’m struggling with remembering another one that has the writers feeling so apathetic tbh). So yeah, there’s a very, very small chance of it happening, sure.

But have you ever tried to write a romance for a ship you hate? You probably haven’t, because the very idea it’s ridiculous. But imagine if you had. You would have hated every minute, I bet. And I don’t think any fans of that ship would find your story even remotely satisfying. Professional writers are exactly the same.

Even if the writers felt so worn down that they decided to go for your ship (which, IMO, would be a giant warning sign on itself; it’d be a mere symptom of their disinterest on their own story, and the show would be on its lasts breaths), what makes you think it’d make for a good story? They would half-ass it at best (and probably use it to troll you, out of spite), it would never get the genuine ~feeling that their preferred ships enjoy because, well. They don’t want it. They don’t believe in it. You can’t write with passion about something you don’t believe in, and passionless writing sucks literally every damn time.

And even all that? All that play-by-play essay I just gave you about why I don’t like the idea of canon BC? That still isn’t enough to make me hate on the ship. This can be said about plenty of ships across shows, books, etc., and I don’t talk about any of them because I don’t even remember them after I’ve moved on to the next thing.

But you know what I hate about BC? ITS FUCKING FANDOM.

They’ve proven to be one of the most dishonest ship-doms I’ve ever encountered, and probably one of the most numerous at that, which obviously only makes them worse (one day I’m going to talk about how these type of ships seem to attract assholes that know they can get away with shit due to the numbers and the attitude of those fanbases, but that’s another story).

Their numbers allow them to control the narrative within the fandom (and since canon doesn’t support them, they’ll outright lie about it), to the point were dissenting voices are ignored, disbelieved, and actively ridiculed and silenced, even when we’re pointing out actual scenes that support OUR reading and contradict THEIRS. They routinely act like characters like Echo or Raven don’t matter, while in fact feeling threatened by their relationship with Bellamy, and go into their tags full of condescending concern-trolling or outright hate. They harass other fans that dare to disagree with them, and they harass the actors and the creators of the show on a semi-regular basis.

A.K.A., they’re hurting real, living human beings.

There are hundreds of “toxic” ship out there (and am I the only one who, thanks to fandom, feel like many of these words have completely lost meaning? I truly hope that I am) that I never think or talk about, even if *I* personally didn’t care for or disliked them. By virtue of their small numbers (since a lot of those ships tend to be fringe interests in the already fringe medium that is fandom), most of the shippers usually mind their own business and simply go on with their lives, which I find to be the right attitude. Shipping (and character/show-stanning) isn’t activism, it’s born out of the fucking opposite impulses, IMO. Fiction is a place to explore anything and everything we wouldn’t even imagine doing in real life; there’s a reason why horror is such a popular genre, ffs. (and that’s mainstream, which means it has a bigger outreach and potential real life consequences (even if they don’t happen the way people think they do; fiction mostly reflects and maybe reinforces reality; it can’t create anything out of thin air). I cannot stress how few people read fanworks and how little they impact the real world).

If anything, those shippers have all my sympathy, because 9 times out of 10, THEY are the ones getting the brunt of the harassment. Like, I don’t give a single fuck about Reylo in one way or the other, to name one example (I’ve only watched TFA, which means I’ve missed the ~meaty part of their relationship, for one; but even if I remedied that, I thought both characters were deeply uninteresting, and I find KR painfully unattractive inside and out, so it’s likely I still wouldn’t ship it); but I’ve seen how its shippers got sent anti-Semitic slurs and gore pictures and were compared to school-shooters, and how its antis have effectively shielded a confessed rapist in their midst (and all that without getting into the general pattern of harassment/violent threats/suicide baiting that plagues the purity culture movement in this site; I can send you sources, if you don’t believe me), so those antis can go fuck themselves, tbh.

THAT shit is what I take issue with: hurting actual people. That’s ALWAYS going to matter more than the feelings of some fucking fictional construct, and I can’t believe that somehow became a controversial opinion. Bellamy or Rey or whom-the-fuck-ever doesn’t exist, they can’t get hurt, and the idea of their “feelings” taking precedence over the well-being or real people is fucking insulting.

(btw, don’t bother with any “but what about THIS gross ship/type of ships? you support THAT too?“ I’m not going to answer that and make myself a target for that bullshit, and I think this post proves this situation goes a little beyond something as clear-cut as “support” or “condemn” --among other issues, who am I to “aproove” or not any ship wtf--, but if you mean “are you against people who like it being attacked because their interests in fiction somehow prove they have ~nasty morals?”, then the answer is a resounding “yes”. What the fuck do you know about their life anyway)

[team-free-squiggle]

The Fairest of Them All

How about a one shot where Roman is genderfluid?

May or may not have elements slightly based off of personal experience, who knows? I mention this because in case my mind does decide to subtly do that, I want everyone to know that everyone else’s experiences are different. The way I might describe being genderfluid may not be the way someone else would describe it. 

Just wanted to put that out there.

Also I was writing this before the new video, don’t worry I have ideas for fics to come from that.

Enjoy, everyone!

~~ Fandom: Oh, who are we kidding, we all know its Sanders Sides

Type: One-shot, AU

Summary: Roman is dating Logan, Patton, and Virgil before they find out that Roman is genderfluid. But they are, and they are really scared that their boyfriends will break up with them if they ever came out.

Characters: Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Remy Sanders, slight mention of Deceit

Pairings: LAMP/CALM/Polysanders

Warnings: some negative thoughts, Deceit, slight homophobia

~~

Roman had a problem that he had hidden from his boyfriends for the entirety of their lives. Well, most of their lives. 

He had realized that he was genderfluid when he was 16, figuring out that only sometimes he was a boy. Other times, he was actually a she, and other times he felt more like he was nonbinary. 

The problem with realizing that when he was 16 was that people weren’t so nice to gays. And he was not only gay, but genderfluid?

It felt like the Universe itself hated him, and it made his life that much harder. He lied to himself, getting to know a certain fellow Side of Thomas much more than he would have liked. 

He wasn’t good enough, not masculine enough, not feminine enough. He was never enough, and these thoughts took their toll on him. 

Even after being more accepted as gay, even after getting to know so many amazing people who were genderqueer like him, it hurt. He still felt like he could never tell anybody.

The good news was that as soon as he felt that he was more accepted, especially about liking boys, he was able to stop lying to himself. He was able to get rid of Deceit. Well, it was him and Remy, but... Roman didn’t like to think about that particular incident too much. The point was that it was okay to be who he is, at least mostly. 

He still hadn’t told the other main Sides. He wasn’t even sure why. Mostly, he figured, it was a reaction to having been told that it was wrong to be himself for most of his life. But that doesn’t matter. It was the fact that he, Logan, Patton, and VIrgil had all started dating. Roman couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer he could keep his secret. 

That’s why he was more scared when he woke up this morning. He was tucked in between a warm Virgil and a cold Logan, with a really hot Patton right below him. He smiled at his three loves, but grimaced when he realized that he felt more like a she today.

She quickly climbed away from her boyfriends (an impressive feat with the way Logan cuddles her), giggling softly. 

She tripped over some of her clothes, blushing as she yelped out an “oh shit!” 

She turned to get dressed, at least in a robe, but thought she saw some movement out of the corner of her eye. She got scared, looked over at the three of them, but saw no movement from any of them. Satisfied, she smiled at them softly, glad they were still asleep as she slipped into the wardrobe that led to her realm. 

When she got inside, leaving a crack in the wardrobe door (she had read about Narnia, obviously), she smiled. Her figure was no longer that of her more Princely self - tall and buff and masculine. No, now she was smaller and feminine, and she fucking loved it. 

No one could mistake her for a Prince now, because she’s currently a Princess. 

As she was choosing her gown for the day (because a Princess has got to slay), a letter came under her door. She opened it, and let out a squeal of delight. There was to be ball tonight, and apparently a few handsome Princes wanted to dance with her! 

She knew she had her boyfriends, of course, but she also knew that this was a kingdom she had made up so everyone automatically knew that she was taken. 

She looked outside, noting that it was actually afternoon, and slipped into a gown for that evening and did up her makeup. She looked gorgeous, and honestly couldn’t wait for the ball!

Logan was woken up by his creative boyfriend slipping out of the bed that everyone is. He would have ignored it, honestly, if it weren’t for a sudden “oh shit!” coming from Roman. 

Logan felt the other two wake up - their Prince had been rather loud with his swearing - but the three of them pretended to still be asleep. 

They could all feel Roman’s eyes looking at them, and Virgil could tell that his royal boyfriend was anxious as he looked over them. Eventually, he left to his realm, and the three still in the bed sat up.

“Virgil, something was off with Ro.” Virgil nodded, noting that Patton had simply said, not asked. 

“Yeah,” the anxious side cleared his throat. “He was anxious about something, and it’s to do with us. Or, more likely, with something we don’t know.”

Logan nodded. “That is the most logical conclusion based on the evidence thus far. Now here’s the question: are we following him?”

The other two nodded, each of them getting dressed before following their beloved. 

They walked into a lush red and gold room, not unlike the one they had just left. In the center, they saw Roman. 

Patton was about to walk forwards when Logan stopped him, pointing out that something was happening. 

They watched as their Roman transformed into a girl, mouths hung open. She giggled happily, twirling around. They all ducked behind pillars, watching their boy- no, girlfriend- be happier than they had ever seen. She quickly went into her closet on the other side of the room, and they saw that there were a bunch of Roman’s traditional outfit on one side of it. 

On the other side, where Ro was currently looking for an outfit, was a splendid, rainbow array of fancy and casual Princess gowns.

The other three left the room slowly, running into someone they recognized. 

“Hey, Remy!” The other Side, Sleep, turned around. 

The Starbucks loving Side smiled. “Hey, guys, whatcha here for?”

They quickly explained everything that had been happening in the last half-hour, Remy’s look quickly changing from carefree to serious as he pulled them from the corridor to the otherwise empty library. 

“What is going on, Remy?” Virgil asked, worried for the people he loves. 

“I knew Ro hadn’t told you yet, and I’m sworn to secrecy as his Royal Advisor, but you’ve seen it for yourselves now.” Remy muttered, more to himself than anything. 

“What the hell is going on? And who made you a Royal Advisor?” Logan asked sharply, more than slightly worried about his boyfriend.

Remy stuck his tongue out. “Roman made me his Royal Advisor, dummy!”

Patton had to hold Logan back from punching Remy. Virgil sighed anxiously, making everyone in the room sigh softly and calm down a bit so as not to worry the purple-clad Side.

“Remy, what is up with Roman? He - he changed into a girl.” Patton’s tone wasn’t judgmental or anything, just curious and worried. 

“So, Roman, as you think you know him, is a boy. This is true... about 50% of the time.” Remy began to explain, sighing at the other three’s confused looks.

“He’s actually genderfluid. He’s been hiding it since we were 16. Sometimes, he’s nonbinary - uses they/them. But most of the time when he’s not a he, he’s a she. That’s who she is right now - she’s not a Prince. She is a Princess.” 

The others nodded, glad that their love was alright. They had been worried, when she seemed anxious around them, that something in her kingdom was hurting her. This wasn’t that, thank goodness. 

“But wait, why wouldn’t he - sorry, she - tell us? And how do you know?” Patton’s eyes were filled with tears. Remy sighed.

“I honestly don’t know the answer to the first question, you’ll have to ask her that. My guess is worry that you wouldn’t accept her. As for the second question, it’s because I busted in on Deceit hurting her. She had been lying to herself about this, letting Deceit hurt her. I stopped that as soon as I found out, and have been her Royal Advisor ever since.”

They all nodded silently, each thinking different things. Logan figured that Remy’s position in the kingdom made a lot more sense now. But, there were more pressing matters than that train of thought. Virgil made plans to kick Deceit’s ass silently. Patton, however, had another idea. 

“We need to show her that we love her no matter her gender. How about - oh, a Royal Ball!” Patton exclaimed excitedly.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “That would certainly be doable, and when she’s female she does love to dance and wear pretty dresses.”

“That settles it!” Patton shouted. Virgil flinched, before a sudden thought occurred to him. 

“Pat, love, wait. Ro was pretty anxious this morning, and I don’t want to scare her. Is there a way to let her know we’re coming without her actually being told it’s us?” He whispered, still very concerned that Ro hadn’t trusted them with something as important as this. Not because he knew what that felt like, per se, but because he did know what it was to not want to feel like an outcast, especially because of a certain snake-faced Side. 

His thoughts were interrupted when his Logical boyfriend spoke. 

“Well, what if we had Remy give her an invitation? Say there would be a ball, with a few Princes interested in dancing with the Princess? I mean, we always knew Ro loved balls, and that when we thought she was a he we said we didn’t mind him dancing with other Princes. She would likely think of this as the same type of thing, only we would be the ones to dance with her.” 

Remy smirked. “Ro always said that if you ever visited, you were each to be ‘treated like the Princes they are.’ Her words, not mine.”

Patton and Virgil nodded along, smiling at the memory of Roman asking if (then a) he could dance with Princes, if they would mind too much. She always was worried about what they thought of her. 

They and Logan laughed slightly at Remy’s words before they all went their separate ways.

This would be a true chance to show her that they love her, no matter what. 

And so the invitation was delivered, the royals got ready, and the stage (or in this case, ballroom) was set.

How will Ro react to her boyfriends being the Princes she would dance with soon? 

Ro was ready to go down to the Ball, she thought. But just to check, she twirled in front of her mirror one more time. She couldn’t help the giggle. She looked gorgeous, and couldn’t wait to dance!

She headed downstairs, and walked into the Ballroom. People parted for her, smiling, and she nodded at them. She was happy, beautiful, and ready to dance with a few handsome Princes. 

Then she saw the three Princes there to dance with her. She felt her throat get tight, breathing slightly shallower. She forced herself to go along with the breathing excersise she had memorized for Virgil. 

The same Virgil who was currently standing in front of her, with Logan and Patton beside him. 

They were all in formal suits, and god Ro wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good they looked if it wasn’t for the fact that they had discovered her secret somehow.

“Ro, love, it’s okay.” Virgil spoke only when she was breathing normally, not wanting for her to hurt any more than she was already. 

“S-so you d-don’t hate me? You d-don’t wanna b-break u-up with m-me?” Ro stuttered, and Logan and Patton and Virgil all felt their hearts melt when she looked up at them with gorgeous doe eyes. 

Patton couldn’t help but hug her when her voice broke on the last word. “Of course not, Ro, we love you no matter what.”

Ro accepted Patton’s hug, smiling happily. Logan and Virgil hugged her too, all of them happy together. 

Logan spoke softly. “Ro, may I have the honor of the first dance with the fairest Princess in all the land?” Ro giggled and curtsied, nodding. 

Logan smiled, took her arm, and led her out to the dance floor. A rather fun and complex dance was going on, and everyone was impressed that Logan knew all the steps as though he had been dancing it for all his life. 

Patton squealed as he and Virgil watched their boyfriend and girlfriend as they softly swayed from side to side together, barely enough to call it dancing. 

Ro giggled and twirled, her red, white, and gold gown twirling around her. Logan smiled happily as he dipped her, kissing her softly before they resumed the dance. 

“So, Princess, is there a different name you want to go by?” Logan murmured when the dance slowed a bit and he and his love were pressed close together. 

“Yeah, actually. I tend to go by Rosana - I got a bit inspired by the Youtuber who also called herself Ro, and it’s different than my male self but it makes sense to me as still being who I am, you know?” She blushed as she couldn’t help but feel that she had rambled on for too long. Logan smiled softly.

“Alright, my lovely Princess Rosana.” He kissed her once more as the dance ended, leaving her a blushing and giggling mess.

They walked over to Patton and Virgil, who stopped swaying so that Patton could drag Ro out to the dance floor. Some uptempo swing was playing, making Pat lead Ro around the dance floor in a fast, old-fashioned dance. 

The beat was one that people watching from the sidelines could clap along with, and that’s exactly what Logan and Virgil were doing. They clapped in time, smiling and laughing together and waving at Pat and Ro when the dancing couple passed them by. 

Soon enough, the song was over, and a somewhat tired Patton led over a still energetic Princess that was ready to dance with her anxious boyfriend.

Virgil took Ro’s hand, leading her to the center of the room. All other people cleared the dance floor, and a familiar theme played that made Ro’s heart sing  and blush.

A Tale as Old as Time, was what they danced to. Ro and Virgil danced together, slowly, peacefully, but still magically. The turns were soft, and Ro knew that Virgil was always there for her. 

Eventually, this song too ended. But more songs played. 

The Princes danced the night away with their Princess, Ro never straying too far from the arms of someone she loves. She was happy to be able to be herself, and to dance with her boyfriends. 

And if the Royal Advisor to Princess Rosana was currently squashing a little yellow-and-black snake under his boot for trying to crash the party, well, no one had to be the wiser. 

As long as the Sides were happy together, everything was okay. And they truly were happy, together as they danced the night away.

~~

Here’s my drawing of what Princess! Roman looks like:

Tag list:

(Sanders Sides)

@astraastro

@madly-handsome

@amber1594

@lie-lie-birdy

@thebaagelboy

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@ravenclawunicorn1

@ako1209

@funsizedgremlin

@princessbelix

@water13girl

@romanasanders

@deathshadowrules

@virgils-jacket

@fandomsofrandom

@cochroachkappa-blog

@zoeyheys

@chipminkle

@6tick6tock6

@maizieandbirds

@panic-at-theeverywhere

@not-my-patton

@cookieturtleart123

(All)

@birdybabybird

@awesomelissawho

@justanotherwolfy

[bigasswritingmagnet]

I’ll Cross the Sea Another Time (2/2)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Shrios

Summary: A fic correcting the death of romanced Thane.  After falling in love, Thane wants to live again. Now he does.

Commissioned by @snuffes​

AO3 link

Part 1 Part 2

It was like a nightmare. Every time she thought it couldn’t get any worse, some fresh hell would unfold, and the whole galaxy would be turning to her, waiting for her to fix it. The Citadel was burning, C Sec was in shambles, and just when she’d found the councilor some jackass had hopped down from the ceiling to menace the salarian.

Just once , Joan thought bitterly, I would like something to go right and stay right.

Complain later, she told herself. Right now, she had a mission and that mission was being stalked by a human in black leather. Joan gathered a biotic charge around her fist and slammed her hand against the window, blowing it outwards and showering a rain of glass on the ground below. No time to bother with stairs; she vaulted the window sill. Thanks to her cybernetics, the impact on landing only made her wince, rather than shattering both ankles.

Glancing back at her, the assassin did an absolutely ridiculous jump straight over the councilor and to the other side. Definitely had some sort of augmentation, which was just fantastic. For a moment, Joan had thought this would be easy.

He held up a hand and yellow light gathered at his palm.

“Don’t even think about it,” she ordered.

“Shepard, he’s going to kill us all!” the councilor hissed, voice straining in his terror.

“That remains to be seen,” Joan replied, eyes fixed on the newcomer. Now on even ground, she could take him in in his entirety and holy shit , what was she looking at? He was like a cartoon character, with his tiny ponytail and shiny, too-complicated armor.

The councilor was babbling about Udina -- a coup, a trap, collusion with Cerberus -- but Joan was only listening with half an ear. Her focus was on the assassin, who was wearing what appeared to be oversized swim goggles. The black metal and blue strips of light made him look like a toad. The human was mirroring her attempts to get a clear shot, keeping the councilor trapped between them.

From the corner of her eye she saw Garrus and Tali emerge from the stairwell.

“Three on one, pal,” she said. “It’s over.”

“No. Now it’s fun.”

Joan fought the urge to roll her eyes and groan. What kind of cliche, macho, action movie bullshit …

Thane appeared behind him.

Joan had fought beside Thane for over a year while they hunted the Collectors, but his skill never ceased to catch her by surprise. One moment, the space behind the human had been empty air. Then, there was Thane, pistol drawn and pointed at the man’s head.  

The man threw a punch. Thane blocked it easily but dropped his pistol in the process. Their hands flew, so evenly matched it was almost more like dancing than fighting. Joan kept her pistol up, but didn’t dare fire.

The human caught Thane in the face, sending him stumbling; grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground. Joan took the chance and fired, but the assassin was too fast. Thane recovered, pushed himself upright, snatched up his pistol.

The assassin was gone.

Cloaking devices. Joan hated cloaking devices. Okay, yes, they were extremely useful when they were on your side, as Kasumi had proven time and again, but nobody else should be allowed to use them. Her eyes desperately scanned the area, looking for the tell-tale shimmer in the air but finding nothing.

A crackle of electricity and the assassin appeared, holding an honest to god katana, as if this was feudal Japan and not the 22nd goddamn century. Somehow, despite the fact that all four of them had opened fire, the assassin could not be hit. He moved faster than should have been possible, ducking and weaving and always managing to be right where the bullets weren’t.

Thane ducked the first swing of the sword and blasted the man across the room with his biotics. What little of the man’s face Joan could see was twisted in rage as he got to his feet. A breathless pause, and both assassins charged.  

Barely a few feet before they met, the human raised his sword, aimed squarely at Thane’s midsection. He wouldn’t even have to strike. Thane’s momentum would do the work for him.  

The world slowed. Joan’s breath froze in her lungs. Every blink was an eternity, and she didn't dare blink in case she missed it. Everything was in sharp relief, the world so crystal clear Joan could have counted the threads in Thane's jacket. She was sure, so sure that this was the death of the man she loved. Time was sliding away from them again.

As casually as if he was making room for someone to pass in a crowded hallway, Thane turned and slid past the sword. Giddy, hysterical laughter bubbled in Joan’s chest at the bewildered look that spread across the human’s face.

The world sped up, and Thane slammed his knee into the human’s gut, seized his wrist and twisted until the sword clattered to the ground. Thane struck with another blast of biotic energy, though this one was weaker than before -- the fight was beginning to take its toll. The human only stumbled back, giving Thane the space to catch up the sword.

Like lightning, the human closed the space between him and slammed his fist into Thane’s chest, right at the still-fresh scar. Thane went pale under the green and stumbled back, collapsing to the floor.

The human lunged for his sword, but even like this, Thane was better. He rammed it through the human’s thigh. The blade burst out the other side in a shower of sparks, metal pushed open like flower petals.

Suddenly freed from the shock and fear that had frozen her in place, Joan fired and cursed as yet again her shot winged past the man by inches. He wrenched himself and his sword from Thane’s grip, dragged his blade from his leg with a grimace of pain. There was the merest moment of hesitation, then the assassin fled.

Thane tried to pull himself upright, but collapsed back against a table with a soft noise of pain. Joan spared a glance in the assassin’s direction, and made her choice. She’d be quick. The man would pay, and pay dearly, but Joan could not leave not knowing.

She knelt beside the drell and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? Are you--” Going to die, she did not, could not say.

“I am fine, siha. I’ve healed enough that one punch won’t do any damage.” He put a hand to his chest and winced all the same. “It did hurt, though.”

Joan grabbed his hand and squeezed it, relief flooding so strongly she herself felt breathless. She couldn’t help but match Thane’s smile when the drell chuckled.

“He should be ashamed of himself, losing to a man recovering from major surgery.”

“You know Cerberus; all dregs and washouts.”

Thane gestured after the assassin.

“Go. I will guard the councilor.” When Joan hesitated, he squeezed her hand again. “I will not die here, Shepard.”

He’s fine , Joan told herself. He’s fine, he’s fine, he said he’d be fine .

Her hands were not shaking, her heart was not pounding, but it was taking all of her strength to make it that way. She couldn't stop her ears from ringing or her mind from replaying the scene of Thane sprawled on the floor, pale and weak, gasping for air.

Joan’s voice was steady when she stopped a nearby doctor and told him she was looking for a drell, a regular patient here.

“ Room 235, just around that--”

Joan was already gone. She didn’t run through the hallways, but she put on her Commander face and the brisk walk that made people hurry to get out of her way. Normally she felt a little guilty -- she didn't like intimidating civilians just for standing around -- but this was an emergency.

Sort of.

Possibly.

When she reached room 235, however, she hesitated, wary of what she might find. She should have asked the doctor how Thane was doing, if only so she could be sure she wasn’t walking blindly into her worst nightmare. Schrodinger's drell, she thought suddenly, slightly hysterically. So long as she stayed out here, Thane could not be dead.

But he couldn't be alive, either. Joan took a deep breath, then let it out.  

Joan opened the door and nearly ran into a drell standing in the middle of the room. He turned, and she stiffened, instantly recognizing Thane’s son. The last time they had met had been...tense. Though it had turned out well enough in the end, she wasn’t certain how Kolyat would react to her.

Fortunately, he didn’t react with immediate disgust or hatred, only mild surprise.

“Commander. My father mentioned you were no longer incarcerated. I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Kolyat Krios.”

Joan had to fight down the quirk of a smile at the corner of her lips. How, exactly, did this young man expect that she would have forgotten the kid she chased halfway across the wards and held at gunpoint? Did he think that was a common enough occurrence for Commander Shepard that the experiences would bleed together? Joan’s life was exciting, but it wasn’t that exciting.

“I remember you,” she said, hoping she managed to hide her amusement. Either Kolyat didn’t notice or was ignoring it, because he simply continued.

“I came as soon as I heard what happened.”

“Is he okay?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. Kolyat smiled.

“He’ll be fine. He’s confined to the bed for the foreseeable future, but there was no lasting damage.”

The tangled knots in her chest unwound like clock springs, leaving her weak with exhausted relief. She was tenser than she’d realized, judging by the way her legs had gone to jelly.

Outwardly, she managed to maintain calm. Kolyat stepped aside, and Joan approached Thane’s bed. He was asleep, chest rising and falling without strain. When Joan touched his hand, however, his eyes opened instantly. When he saw her, he smiled sheepishly.

“Siha. I’m afraid I won’t be much more use to you in your fight.”

Joan squeezed his hand tightly.

“You’re alive. That’s all I need.”

Thane’s smile turned wry.

“I was very sure my doctor was going to kill me when they brought me in. Apparently fighting off assassins counts as that ‘strenuous activity’ I wasn’t supposed to be doing.”

Joan couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was a little breathless. Then the laugh caught in her throat and went tight. She swallowed hard as her eyes grew hot with tears she refused to shed. Thane put his hand on top of hers.

“I am alright. I will survive this, and I will be waiting for you when you return.”

“I was so sure I’d lost you,” she whispered.

Thane struggled to sit up, grunting in pain.

“Thane, don’t--” she began, but he shook his head, determined. When he was upright, Thane took her hand and pulled her closer to the bed, close enough that he could reach out and cup her cheek. He drew her down until his lips pressed against hers. Joan had a brief moment of pity for Kolyat, who probably found this extremely awkward, before it was overruled by the tingling on her lips where they met Thane's.

Joan was a little breathless by the time Thane pulled away, but his expression was deadly serious.

“There is too much here on land, siha, for me to pass willingly into the sea.”

[kane-and-griffin]

Hey! So I know that you're the most famous person of the kabby fandom (and I love you btw) so there's something I need to tell you. I've seen a lot of people from the kabby fandom (which I am a part of it) getting mad whenever someone on twitter doesn't like Kane or Abby, saying that it's because they are ageist which I think is really annoying (like they start going off on them almost every time ) 1/2

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and if they don’t like a character it’s not necessarily bc they’re ageist. I think that this is the reason a lot of people don’t like us so (if you agree with me ofc) could you maybe pass the word? I love you btw you’re an amazing person and your ff are the best 😘 2/2             

Okay.  So.  

There’s a lot to unpack here.

I have a lot of thoughts, some of which may notbe the thoughts you were hoping that I would have.  I do want to thank you for your very sweet words, but I also want to address a few things about this askI find extremely frustrating, not with the intent of making you feel bad butbecause I think there are some big conversations here worth having in a broadercontext.

First and foremost, and this is something most ofyou have heard me reiterate many times, I am a strong advocate of peopleaddressing their problems with each other directly.  If you saw someone on Twitter accuse someoneof being ageist and you disagree, that’s fair to say!  Social media is a free and open exchange ofideas.  Also, if you’re a member of theKabby fandom, and you witness another member of the Kabby fandom engaging inbad internet behavior, call them out!  It’salways better for communities to go collect their own people when they crossthe line rather than expecting others to do it. If your fellow fan tweets something mean, call it out.  We all need to do our part to shut that stuffdown and make the fandom a better place. But the right forum for that is to bring it up with the person whoactually said or did the thing you’re upset about, and not to bring it to acompletely unrelated party.

Which brings me to my second point: I’m extremelyuncomfortable being addressed as though I speak for the entirety of the Kabbyfandom.  I don’t.  No one person does.  Fandoms are communities made of individualpeople who have shared interests, but there’s no hierarchy. I don’t want to bethe Bad Fandom Behavior Police. This is especially frustrating when I getasks where one member of the fandom comes to Kabby Mom about something anothermember of the fandom did … especially when it’s something I wasn’t part ofand didn’t witness.  

And that, my dear Anon, is the big problem that I’mhaving with this request.  I don’t haveany idea what incident you’re referring to, what was said, by whom, to whom, orwhat the context was.  You’re asking meto agree with you that somebody was out of line, and that, quote, “that’s whypeople don’t like us.”  But I can’t grantthat premise without knowing what you’re talking about.  

(Also, by the way, I would urge you to let go ofspending too much time caring about whether other fandoms like us.  I can assure you, most of them honestly probablyaren’t thinking about us that much.)  

If I understand the situation correctly, and ifwe’re referring to a real incident and not a hypothetical, you’re saying that PersonA tweeted something negative about Kabby and Person B said “that’s ageist.”  You, Anon, believe that Person A was not being ageist, that Person B overreacted,and that B is the one whose behavior is the problem.  And that’s certainly one possibility.  But the other possibility is that maybePerson A was being ageist but neither Person A nor you have recognizedit.

And I cannot make that determination for you,because you haven’t told me anything concrete, and I wasn’t there.

I am also a thirty-six-year-old woman in a fandomfull of teenagers and if you are not thirty-six then it is entirely possiblethat you and I are seeing the concept of ageism from two very different andincompatible points of view in the first place.

That being said, if you want my opinion, here is my opinion.

First, there really is no excuse for being a jerk onthe internet, no matter what you disagree about.  There will always be people who love thingsyou hate and hate things you love and ship things you find incomprehensible andreject headcanons you treat as gospel, because we all fandom in our ownways.  So if you’re asking me, shouldKabby shippers get a pass on being jerks to non-Kabby shippers just because I,personally, ship Kabby, my answer to that is, “of course not, that is insane.”  Disagreement and discussion are always okay;Twitter is a public forum, and if someone voices an opinion, you get to haveyour own opinion about it.  But being ajerk is never okay.  

In general, I am a strong proponent of stayingin your lane. I’m a pretty ruthless curator of my Twitter and Tumblr feeds, soI don’t follow anyone who talks shit about Kane or Abby (I have a one-strikeblock policy with this), and I recommend this approach to everyone.  Make your social media feed your happy place.

Now, there are lots of people in the fandom who don’tlike, or simply don’t care for, Kane and/or Abby.  There are probably plenty of reasons forthis, and not, not every single one of these reasons is inherently ageist. HOWEVER!The fact that you did not see the comment in question as being ageist does not actually mean it was not ageistor that the person who called them out was wrong for doing so.  

Ageism is hardwired into the very fabric of oursociety – like misogny and heterosexism and racism – and just like with thoseother -isms, most of the time when we serenely think that we are guiltless ofit, we are lying to ourselves. And that goes for internalized prejudices,too.  This stuff is ingrained in us from birth. In general, the sameway I am inherently suspicious of white people saying “I AM ZERO PERCENTRACIST” and men saying “I AM THE MOST FEMINIST MAN TO EVER MAN”, I tend to takewith a grain of salt the words of people much younger than me talking about ageism in this fandom because I actually see it a lot.

And fam, we need to talk about the differencebetween fandom discourse about Abby and fandom discourse about Kane.

Now, your mileage may vary, but I will say thatin my personal experience, when I stumble upon someone who does like Abby but doesn’t likeKane, I agree that it frequently has its roots in reasons which are notinherently, automatically ageist.  Ittends to be rooted rather clearly in plot. More often than not, they’re still tripping up over something he did in aprevious season that they can’t get past. (We should probably save the conversation about our fandom’s selectiveforgiveness problem for another time.)  Theycan’t get past the Culling, or arresting/shocklashing/attempting to float Abby,or being too hard on Bellamy, or losing the election to Pike by choosing toally with the Grounders, or floating Aurora or Jake, or just in general being amega-dick in the pilot.  And that’sfine!  I mean I feel like you’re missingout by giving his four-season character development arc short shrift andignoring the way all the terrible things he’s done in the past shaped him intoa better person once he confronted them, but whatever!  The point is that, you’re right, thatreasoning is not, in and of itself, inherently ageist.  That’s not to say that there aren’t any fanswho straight-up just don’t like him because they think old guys are boring, forthe most part, when I see people dislike Kane, it’s a reaction to something that he did.

But we actually do need to talk about ageism andAbby in this fandom.  Because it is a big fucking problem. 

The problem with ageism and Abby is that moreoften than not, from what I’ve seen, when people dislike Abby, it’s a reactionto who and what she is.  It is absolutely impossible to separate itfrom internalized misogyny and the way older women are systematically devaluedby our culture in ways that sometimes we can’t even see as ageist, because they’rejust hardwired into us. 

Sure, every once in awhile you get an easy one,and someone whines on Twitter about “gross old person sex,” and then you canpoint to it very clearly, and nobody will dispute that we’re talking aboutageism here.  But it’s often so muchmurkier than that.  Ageism can look likea lot of different things, many of which you’ll believe are completelyunrelated.

Ageism can look like fans who show up in thecomments of the writers’ room Twitter and Instagram when they post pictures ofthe adults to say “nobody cares about them, post [whoever I personally stan themost] instead.”

Ageism can look like gifset after gifset featuring “leading ladies of The 100″ where they include Fox and Maya and Charlotte, but not Abby (who has second billing in the cast after Clarke).

Ageism can look like a blanket refusal, under inany situation where Clarke and Abby are at odds, to grant that Abby might havea point, even when the narrative is clearlytelling us that Clarke is the character at fault. The tendency within thisfandom for young girls who closely identify with Clarke to graft their own momfrustrations onto Abby is virtually never-ending, and it can be hard to sift throughthe the complex intersection of ageism and misogyny that makes it impossiblefor them not to see mothers as human beings who are interesting, who are wise,who are right, who know things their children do not, who are sexual, who areallowed to make mistakes, who deserve screen time and plot agency, who are justas vital to the story as the teenagers.

Ageism can look like giving Clarke sole creditfor establishing peace with the Grounders through Lexa, when in fact it wasKane who made the first contact with her and got her to offer the treaty in thefirst place, and it was Abby turning Lincoln from a Reaper back into himselfagain that cemented the alliance.

Ageism can look like shutting down Kabby shippersgleefully enjoying headcanons about bunker baby theory because Abby is “too oldto have a baby” – a misconception that has permeated so deeply into our culturethat we have all internalized the belief that no woman is supposed to have ababy over the age of 35 as though it is inarguable scientific fact, even thoughit may interest you to know thatis a myth.  (“What? How did I notknow that that was a myth?” BECAUSE OUR ENTIRE SOCIETY IS AGEIST TOWARDS WOMENAND THE STUDY THAT GAVE US 35 AS THE MAGIC STOP NUMBER IS FROM LIKE THE 1700’S,THAT’S HOW FEW FUCKS THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY GIVES ABOUT UP-TO-DATE RESEARCH ON THEHEALTH OF OLDER WOMEN)

Ageism can look like a fan who ships all thenon-canon ships … except Doctor Mechanic, because it’s “gross” and “Abby isbasically her mom.”  The inherentdesexualization of age-difference relationships is often rooted in ageism.  You don’t have to ship it!  But if you insist that no one should ship it, then there may be some ageism in the rootsof your ship-shaming.

My point here, dear Anon, is that if you arelooking for someone to tell you, “you’re right, Kabby shippers overreact aboutageism in this fandom,” you are barking up the wrong tree, because from where Istand, as a woman far closer to Abby’s age than Clarke’s, I’m going to venturethat we don’t talk about ageism enough.  And like many -isms in our society, if itdoesn’t appear to you to be that big a problem, that may be because it doesn’tapply to you.  (Yet.)

Now, to be clear – before someone sends me anangry rebuttal to this – not in a million years am I saying that it makes you inherently ageist if you don’t shipKabby.  Just like it doesn’t make you inherentlyhomophobic if you don’t like Lexa or inherently racist if you don’t like Bellamy or inherentlymisogynist if you don’t like Clarke.  Butall squares are rectangles, even if not all rectangles are squares.  By which I mean that, contained within thegroup of people who don’t ship Kabby, there is a lot of ageism, just as,contained within the group of people who hate Bellamy, there’s a lot ofproblematic racial shit, and it means we need to have a clearer understandingof where those lines are so that we recognize the ugly stuff when it shows upon our timeline and call it out when we see it.