#but yeah just imagining that discourse feels exhausting

[vonlipvig]

god, could you imagine if not for broadcast was really popular and we had to deal with, like, not patrick gender and sexuality discourse? hell.

[vergess]

One of the reasons why I feel safe asking you uncomfortable questions in general is because while you're one of the angriest and most short tempered people I follow, I never saw you cross the line into bigotry (including less recognized types of bigotry, like ageism). Which is something other big accounts that get involved in political discourse do all the time. There are so many otherwise informative posts I saw that I couldn't engage with productively because the person would put in something like "these terminally online brain rotten people need to touch grass" or "theyfabs crying white woman tears" or something similar.

Ah, thank you for this!! I have a lot of rage in my little body, but I try hard not to let it spill onto people who are just doing their best. There's no reason to involve, like, the entirety of AFAB trans people just because one white person is crying crocodile tears for attention, for example.

Though, I know there are places left that I could improve; I try to warn people for example that I'm pretty free handed with mild forms of ableism like calling someone "an ignorant shitfaced twat who needs to shut up and read a book."

But yeah, there's something really, really exhausting about seeing what is otherwise a great post, and you can't engage with it because like... right at the end, the author reveals that they think all trans men have White Woman Privilege or they've forgotten hourebound cripples use the internet too and our ability to "go touch grass" is somewhat hampered by not being able to get out of bed without an assistant.

I'm mostly just glad "brain worms" stopped being a popular insult, given how horrific the actuality of neural parasites is. I hated the like 2 years where that was popular and you just had to accept that a large portion of the world thinks dying in one of the most gruesome ways imaginable is a fun treat to wish on strangers lol

Anyway!! Thank you for this! I will continue doing my best, and I want to say thank you to you as well:

I dropped out of para-related discourse years ago; it got way too toxic for me to handle. I'm glad there are still people out there being fucking sensible about things like prevention, group support, etc.

Keep fighting the good fight!!

[russilton]

Hi, I hope this isn't weird, but as I see this kind of discourse from one of my favourite author I just wanted to check in if that's a kind of thing you're dealing with too. Without any judgement to anyone. Is it really that important to you guys that we leave comments? Aren't kudos enough? And do you agree that writers have to answer to comments?

It’s alright anon I figured I might get a message like this and I do appreciate having the chance to share my piece because I utterly agree with Susi on every part.

Something that’s worth understanding is I do not have a single artist or writer friend who doesn’t face this issue. Every single one one them, without fail, puts their heart on the line to create and share fan work, and all of them, myself included, struggle with a lack of response. Every gif maker, writer, artist, edit crafter, web weaver, all of them live for the positive comments we receive, the praise. I don’t know a creative without a praise kink, frankly.

This has been true for every fandom I’ve been in since I started posting art online in 2011, and fic in 2017, but it is ESPECIALLY present in F1 RPF because the space is so small, and usually people are so used to clinging to anonymity that the space feels even smaller.

Long discussion under the cut, because I wanted to try and honestly explain the mental process behind why authors and artists ask for a comment.

Speaking from my own experience now (that I’d still put money on being a similar experience for others), posting work of any kind online is a bargain. Yes you do it for yourself in part, but if it was just for myself I wouldn’t post it. When you post, you make the mental deal of “am I willing to accept potential hate or disinterest in this, for the chance to receive love and praise on it”. If you’ve been here a while you’ve seen the anons I’ve received at times; transphobic, homophobic, or just plain hateful. Some were too hateful to even post. I have had an Instagram page make a collage of my art just to laugh at it. But I keep posting, because for me, the joy and community I receive from comments and tags on my work make it worth that bargain. There’s some work that isn’t worth the potential backlash to post. That’s why any of the nsfw art I draw never leaves my close mutuals. I’m not willing to share it online when the result of it would pale against the risk.

Creative work is a deeply personal and heart baring process. It cannot be done easily some days. Yes it’s fun and funny and entertaining at times, but most times when I’m writing, I end up stood utterly alone in my own mind with myself. I cant write if I’m too depressed, because that experience of being alone with myself is too painful. Even on a good day it can be hard. So when I choose to go to that place, remain alone to pour my mind into something I write or draw, it is an exhausting labour of love. It takes hours, I’m not a fast worker, some people are faster than me, some are even slower. I’m alone for all of it.

And so when you put that all together. The work, the creative process, the editing, the cleaning, the preparing for posting, the process of tagging and sorting work so it’ll be seen, then self promoting… the least we can ask for in return is a comment?

You have to understand, kudos or likes are great, but it’s a hand sticking out of the void and giving you a thumbs up. It’s silent, faceless, impression-less. Imagine sending your family a deeply personal message and the response you get is just “👍”. Yeah it’s technically a response, but it’s disproportionate to the Labour afforded beforehand. People posting online are seeking a human connection, that little snap of closeness all human beings through history have craved. A kudos doesn’t really satisfy that craving. I would rather get 20 kudos on fic, but every single one has a comment, than 1000 silent ones. It’s just a number, it takes half a second to press that button and move on. It makes you feel like a cheap commodity that’s consumed and spat out, and that doesn’t even speak for the shame of a thousand eyes looking at your work and saying nothing at all.

When you comment or leave a tag, it shows me you took a second to absorb what I’ve showed you. It slowed you down, made you pause or take a breath, it DID something to you, just like it did something to me to make it. That’s a connection, that snap of a bond. Myself and that commenter now share something, and usually it’s a simple act of gratitude that you see all the work I’ve done to give you something, even if the comment is just “I really liked this!thank you for writing it”. It’s a paltry amount of work compared to what happened to get us there. But I feel less alone for just a little while, just like that fic did for you.

I understand that is still hard to do on occasion. You may be tired, you may feel over exposed or sick, but again you have to remember how hard that creative worked to give you something. On tumblr at least you can still reblog without a comment and increase the chance of someone else doing so. Ao3 doesn’t have that. Even when people filter by kudos they still have to be looking to read something with those tags. It doesn’t do much for the author who is sat faced with numbers. Their work made you feel, think, or just escape your own mind, by commenting, you are giving them the chance to have a moment of the same.

I have a screenshot folder full of comments that have made my day. It’s packed with the words that kept me going, when I doubted I could write at all, when I wondered if my art was good enough. They make a meaningful impact on my life the way I hope my work does for others.

And then you have to understand how… ungrateful it seems, to have people go “well you don’t reply fast enough, so I’m not going to comment.” I understand we all want that connection again, of a reply, and that’s why most authors TRY to do so!

But that author or artist has spent hours creating something for you, they have emotionally laboured and worked and bared themselves, asked you just to say something as your payment, and then you have asked to be paid for that honour? That’s like going into a store, paying for something, and then going “because you didn’t give me an extra gift for paying rather than stealing, I shall simply steal it in future”. That’s kind of insane right? Especially when the work you receive was hand made with love by the person sat in front of you.

I don’t know a single creative person on f1blr I haven’t seen go “I don’t know if posting this is worth it”. And that should worry people. If you come online and devour content without return, you are going to see people stop posting and walk away. I’ve seen it happen over and over and over. This isn’t the hungry hungry caterpillar, you aren’t 5, you don’t get to have your cake and eat it too if you don’t pay the baker who made it. In this case nobody in fandom has the incentive of making a living to continue. I can’t buy things for myself with comments. We don’t get paid. Instead they’re just going to stop sharing and return to only giving cake to people who respond. I’ve got art and fic I wrote only for my friends, because I wanted a reaction and giving it to them was a sure fire way to get it, because I trusted them.

If it becomes more effort to post than it does the return, I simply just won’t. I owe nothing to a faceless void, and so said void should try being less faceless. That’s all people are asking for.

[kitcat992]

│Identity Saga │Narrative Discourse (My Kid)

Identity Saga

When I first started the Identity Saga, right after Infinity War, my main and primary desire was to build the relationship between Tony Stark and Peter Parker — knowing full well we'd never see it on the big screen (but not knowing just how badly TPTB would treat these two #theydeservedbetter) It's always great to jump into a fic where the foundations are pre-established with throw away lines, but I'd yet to see someone fully evolve their relationship step-by-step (and I can't blame a single soul for not taking up the task. It's *exhausting*, lmao.) And so, I set out to create a universe where the audience could witness the evolution of these two characters as they grow together into a strong bond.

It took two stories, about 600k words, and literal years spent laying down the narrative threads of "my kid." And of everything in this series, it remains my absolute favorite.

With the final installment about to begin, here's a brief recap of how we got there.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 1: Prologue

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark, this is like, the coolest thing ever!”

Tony rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead, a tension headache quickly brimming behind his eyeballs.

“I know, kid. You’ve said that about thirty-six times now.”

“No, no no, it’s not that, it’s just…" Peter held the helmet in his hands as if it were gold, his eyes bright and wide, and his feet bouncing with excitement. "Dude, this is the coolest thing ever!”

Tony could feel his eyes roll to the back of his head. If he looked hard enough, he possibly  could've seen his own brain — throbbing with the growing headache that caffeine may or may not fix.

Excitement was always an element the kid brought along with him, anytime Tony invited him along to work in the lab. And as exhausting as it was to deal with, there was no denying how the unbridled glee managed to always brighten his otherwise sour mood.

But while he wasn’t necessarily expecting an in-depth discussion regarding the scientific findings on his latest project, he also wasn’t expecting a broken record to play on repeat. The kid was usually better than that.

Usually. 

“You say the word ‘coolest’ and ‘thing’ and ‘ever’ one more time Parker... " Tony massaged his forehead harder. "And I assure you this will be the last time you and DUM-E get to play patty-cake together.”

Peter’s head snapped up like a broken rubber band, and slowly, he put the helmet back down on the work desk below him.

“Wha-why-what…no. No, I want to — I just thought…” he repeatedly cleared his throat and nervously straightened his back. “Okay, so, I gotta know…how did you get the holographic chip to store facial data recognition?”

Tony scoffed, mildly amused. “Jesus kid, that’s the best question you can come up with? That part was borderline child's play.”

“Yeah, well, no, it’s just —” Peter stumbled over his words, scooting his stool closer to where Tony sat. And then closer after that. “Facial recognition typically uses bio metrics for its body measurements and calculations, to—to you know, refer to metrics related to human characteristics, but its used in access control, never memory stored control. And I can’t imagine a simple storage unit could hold all this information and relay it back to the recognition program in time to provide results, so…" Peter finally took a breath, "how'd you do it?"

Tony hummed, giving a short and sharp nod. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was that Parker could talk his head off when it came to science. And while he had days where he doubted supplying the kid with so much technology to support his vigilante heroism — six months ago, for example, when the Ferry Incident was still fresh in his mind — it was moments like this that renewed his confidence in the young lad.

He wouldn't admit it aloud, but it made him proud.

Or some mutated form of the emotion he hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 7: New Kid On the Block

A beat passed by before he looked over at Tony, a mixture of realization and recognition written across his features.  

“Son of a gun,” Steve muttered. “I think he’s right.”

“Wanda, Vision, you’re dismissed," Tony ordered, shooing his hand in their direction. "Retreat to the Quinjet and stay there. We can’t add any more fuel to this fire.”

The two didn’t need any further instructions. Vision flew Wanda and himself up into the sky, the back door of the jet already open with Natasha awaiting them.

Hovering out the door, she looked down at the scene below.

“Need backup now?” she asked, stepping aside as the two entered the aircraft.

“Yes.” Tony tilted his head to the side. “Parker — get over here.”

“Peter, up here first,” Natasha’s voice butted in.

Steve grabbed Tony's arm. “What are you—”

“Who knows what this atrocity can reflect back at us,” Tony interrupted him, and fast at that. “Do we really want a fifteen-foot tall walking rock wall with Captain America’s strength?”

“I dropped an areobridge on that kid. I saw him lift twenty-five tons," Steve mentioned, a hard shake of his head mixed with his words. "If his strength isn’t equal to mine, it’s better. You’re just giving this creature the advantage by bringing him into the fight.”

Tony's lips pursed with a smile. “Not with the idea I have in mind.”

Steve didn’t have a chance to argue. Peter had already shot two webs onto the Quinjet and pulled himself into the air, landing inside and next to Natasha with a visible thud.

They watched on the ground as the two exchanged a brief conservation. Natasha's fingers pointed at Steve and Tony all while Peter shrugged with a sincerity that could be seen down far away.

Ultimately, Peter dove out of the jet, a web sticking to the side as he lowered himself down to the island.

Peter landed gracefully in a squatting position, a single palm balancing himself on the ground.

“What was that about?” Tony furrowed his brows and pointed up to the jet.

“She, uhm, she…” Peter stood up, shrugging intently. “She wanted to make sure I was good coming over here. That's all.”

Tony’s face fell flat. His dumbfounded expression was all too visible with his Iron Man mask open. His eyes darted back and forth as he took in what he was told, his scowl growing more intense with realization.

“Romanoff, do not baby my kid!”

His stern warning was immediately cut short as he realized what he'd said.

And if he happened to not realize it, the look from Steve would've made him realize it.

“I mean — you know what I —" Tony clenched his teeth tight. "Damn it!”

There was silence over the comms. Only the honking traffic, roaring monster, and engines from the aircraft filled the space between.

Even Sam didn’t dare to joke.

Peter stood awkwardly in front of the two, his large mechanical eyes blinking more than a few times.

Steve cocked an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips twitched.

“You do what you want, Stark,” Natasha’s voice finally came through. “We’ll be patrolling the skies.”

If it were possible, Tony’s cheeks began to reflect his red Iron Man armor, his gloved hands rubbing at his forehead despite the pressure the metal put on his bones. It was only when a loud roar and gust of wind hit them — knocking Tony and Steve back and Peter forward — that he refocused his attention.

“Tony.” Steve stumbled to his feet. “You have a plan?”

Identity Theft │ Chapter 11: Avengers Disassembled

There was a pause.

Steve looked down to the coffee cup on the table, watching as the mess began to leak driblets onto the ground. One drop at a time, creating a small puddle on the marble floor. A mess that somebody, at some point, would need to clean up.

“You called him your kid.” Steve forced his eyes away from the dripping coffee, back to where Tony sat. His head tilted to the side, just narrowly. “Last week…out on the island…you called him your kid.”

The coffee kept dripping.

Tony barely craned his head around to look at Steve — close enough now that if he wanted to take a seat next to him on the couch, he could. If Tony hadn't been so confused, he would've made a run for the other sofa. Or jump straight down the stairs, need be. Whatever it meant to get Steve away from him.

Curiosity always did win when it came to Stark's. And Steve's out-of-the-blue comment was just enough to grab his attention.

"Your point?" Tony made a face that was caught between insulted and perplexed, and something else he was too tired to figure out.

Steve found himself leaning against the armrest of the sofa, slowly, enough that the movement didn't jostle the man sitting there.

“Tony…” Steve started to say. “Was he actually your son —?”

“No!” Tony's eyes were wide enough to fall onto the floor. Jesus, if that didn't get him to sober up quickly. "Christ, no, I didn't have — no!"

He definitely needed to go heavier on the whiskey. Tony brought a hand to his forehead, not realizing it was wet with coffee until it smeared against his temple. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the back of his hand roughly against his jeans before returning to a halfhearted temple massage.

This was exactly the shit he'd been worried about with Parker. Rumors, speculation, tabloid garbage nonsense that would spread like wildfire — this was part of why he wanted to keep Peter secret from the team.

A scoff shook his back. So much for that.

Despite Tony's outburst, Steve still seemed wary. His head tilted further to the side, his confusion deepening. All the more visible underneath the lack of sleep that coated his features.

It was a tired Captain America that Tony took pity on. His confusion was no different than Bambi on a dewy morning, lost and looking for answers. Glancing over at Steve — really looking at him — and Tony didn't understand how even the blues of his eyes had deepened with that confusion. It was almost enough to make him scoff again — because of course Rogers could pull off the Bambi eyes when he wanted to.

Screw it. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter what the team knew and what they didn't know.

It wasn't like Peter was around to worry about anymore.

"He wasn't...he wasn't my kid, no," Tony let out that scoff after all. "He’s been — he was— hanging around here. A lot. More often than I probably should have let him.”

Tony adjusted himself on the sofa, attempting to straighten his back in a way that would evoke poise they both knew he didn’t have right now. The sip of coffee he took only further deteriorated that attempt. The hand holding his mug began to tremble with the liquid he hadn't consumed in ages.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 14: Haste Makes Waste

Sam turned back to Steve, reluctantly, holding his stare for a minute. When he finally backed down, it was with a huff. So audible it may as well have been the thing that pushed his chair away.

He reached for it and rolled it back behind him, answering Steve only with a firm nod and a tight purse of his lips.

Any other day, and Tony would have said he was pouting. He may have even thrown out a joke, no different than Clint.

But the energy for jokes was energy he didn't have. And no amount of guzzling caffeine was going to fix that. Especially not after losing four vital team members on the impromptu to rescue mission that he still struggled to wrap his head around.

“Tony —”

The sound of his name cut through his thoughts like a bulldozer. Tony whirled around, his eyes springing wide open right as Steve open his mouth to speak.

“Hell no!” Tony practically yelled, viciously shaking his head at the very concept of Rogers benching him. “You don’t have a say in this one, Cap. I’m there. End of story." When Steve parted his lips to speak — a second attempt, at that — Tony trampled right over him. "I have a suit roaring to go, one that’ll kick them off their feet even with that damn nanite mist." Tony lowered his gaze with a fierceness reflecting back at Steve. Unmistakable as it crossed into his every facial feature. "I’m getting my kid back.”

Whatever Steve had tried hard to say was suddenly lost on his tongue. He sat quiet, his lips sealing shut after many attempts at getting his words out. His expression got caught somewhere between stunned and mild awe.

It didn’t go unnoticed that Tony called Peter ‘his kid’ again. Yet not even Clint dared to tease him about that.

“I...wasn’t going to argue with you over that,” Steve needlessly said, finding himself unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “I wanted to make sure you had a plan before we attacked.”

Tony's gaze let up, slightly, just enough that the tension he felt wasn't bulging every muscle on his body. Quick to notice the attention he had drawn on himself, he opted to roll his eyes was exaggeratedly as possible.

“You know me, Rogers," Tony drawled out, folding both arms firmly over his chest. "My plan is to attack."

Identity Theft │ Chapter 16: Smoke and Mirrors

Almost robotically, Steve stepped to the side. Tony wouldn’t turn his back to him, he absolutely refused. His arm stayed gestured out, insisting that the man take the lead. He could have sworn he heard a scoff when they finally started walking; it was hard to say, the blood rushing in both ears made his hearing muffled.

Tony stayed directly behind him, his fingers digging into his palms, scratching the metal of his armor. They walked down the hallways in the opposite way Tony had come from, opposite of the trail he was following.

Which meant at their pace and direction, they’d be rounding the back of the building.

‘He’ll either lead you to Peter or kill you first. Which do you think it is, Stark?’

With every step, each footstep they made, his breathing came in harder, his lips tightly pursed. Tony had enough experience with crazy maniacs to know this wouldn’t work for his benefit. Dmitri wanted him dead. Peter was a ploy, bait — innocent, goddamn bait.

Tony had reached his tipping point long before they had even entered the base. A devouring inferno of thoughts began to splinter him apart. He took Peter. He had Peter. He probably hurt Peter – innocent, wanted-nothing-more-than-to-please-everyone Peter. This son of a bitch had broken into his company, tried to steal his money, took his kid — 

His control broke, snapping like a weak twig. Self-restraint gone with the wind, willpower lost in the heat of the moment, Tony charged forward.

The man whipped around as Tony yanked at his arm. “Ah-ck! Tony, what the hell are you —!”

Tony grabbed him, slamming him violently into the nearest wall.

“Tony, what —!”

Tony grabbed the side of the impostor’s face and smashed his head against the wall — once, twice, and then a third time. The light from his helmet barely illuminated the blood that trickled down from the bastard’s forehead. When he finished, Tony had the man’s hair clenched between his fingers, ensuring he wouldn’t move.

“Cap hasn’t worn those gloves since the battle of New York in 2012.” Tony pressed his face harder against the wall, the man’s cheek smothered against the damp metal. “Where the hell is my kid, Dmitri!?”

Tony couldn’t remember a time he spoke with such venom. His rage was a wicked tornado, building inside him, ready to cause destruction in its path. The blond hair stayed gripped in his hand, and he found himself squeezing harder when the sick fuck began to laugh — a light, airy chuckle falling between them.

Tony whipped Dmitri’s head back and —

WHAM!

Identity Theft │ Chapter 17: Grace Under Pressure

Tony had gotten halfway across the base when the damage to his Iron Man helmet finally pushed him over the edge. He ripped it off with a frustrated growl.

“Goddamn piece of junk.” His fingers dug deep into the device, tearing apart the lining and tossing it aside. He didn’t care about being gentle, the jagged, metal edges cutting deep into his exposed knuckles. He was already wasting time, the distraction of the broken helmet doing him no favors.

Within the eye-sockets, he grabbed the wires that contained two tiny LED lights and yanked them out. At least now he could be free of the dented helmet. The metal had been so caved in from his fight that it was putting pressure on his skull.

Tony smacked his palm against his chest, embedding the lights to his armor. The moment they attached, he resumed his search. There wasn’t any time to spare.

It didn’t take him long to find the trail of blood he'd initially been following. He couldn’t tell which way he headed in the base — left, right, south, north — all he knew was that he planned to follow the crude pathway until it gave him answers. His energy was fed by anger so intense, so hot that it starved away his undeniable anxiety.

When the smeared blood took a curve into an open room, Tony half expected to be led down another hallway. He instead came to a startling halt at the entrance. To his surprise, the room was a dead end. It was just that — a room.

What caught his attention was the reflection of Captain America’s shield, the red and blue standing out from the dreary darkness around them. It was directed right at him, attached to Steve’s back, telling him that the man was facing forward. Tony squinted, realizing that Steve’s attention was clearly focused on something — or someone — important.

He stood frozen in the doorway, listening intently to the sounds from within. The voice was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it.

Almost.

“Stay with me, soldier,” Steve spoke softly, his tone more delicate than Tony had ever heard it before. “Easy now, I got you, son.”

Tony furrowed his brows. It was the only part of him that he could feel move, his nerves paralyzing the rest of his muscles.

But he knew couldn’t have stood there long; Steve’s instincts kicked in quickly, his head turning over his shoulder when his presence was noticed.

He never said anything. It was probably for the best, Tony wasn’t sure if he would have heard him to begin with. Not over the pounding of his heartbeat, the blood rushing through his ears. Steve moved, just ever so slightly that both their flashlights gave sight to —

“Peter.” Tony’s breath lodged in his chest.

The kid was slumped forward, only held upright by the metal straps around his arms — Tony balked, they had him bolted against the wall. He was too far away to see if Peter’s eyes were open or not. It was too dark to see if he was even breathing, the intrusive thought making his stomach churn.

But he was there. No mind tricks, no sick psycho taking on his identity, it was him — Peter.

His kid.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 18: Homecoming

They were millimeters away from smashing through two automatic doors, moving faster than the technology could keep up with. Doctors, nurses, and techs poured through, squeezing in, some pushing each other aside as they rushed alongside the gurney.

Tony went to follow. His jaw clenched with a searing need to be involved, to be as close as he possibly could, to never lose sight of his kid ever, ever again.

Just as the doors were closing, a man stepped in front of him, latex gloves pressing heavily against his chest.

“Mr. Stark,” he started, “you can’t go in there.”

Tony shook his head, eyes staring past him and into the other room. “I have to — he’s my —”

“You can’t,” he firmly repeated.

The noise across from them seemed to increase, words mixing with obnoxious beeping and alarms that made his ears hurt.

Tony swallowed hard. “I need to —”

“You’re not sterile. You’re not even clean,” the man explained. “I need to ask that you leave.”

“No, I... I—”

“Mr. Stark.” His hand pushed harder, his voice more strict. “Back down.”

Tony didn’t have the time to argue. The man retreated, rushing away. Though in Tony's head he screamed mind to follow, his feet stayed glued to the ground, and he wasn’t sure what made him stay. He wasn’t the type of person to take orders, but this wasn’t about being submissive.

This was about knowing where his place was, what help he could and couldn’t provide.

He had done his part. He got Peter home, they completed their mission, now he needed to let his staff do the job he paid them for. He wasn’t any use in there.

It was out of his hands now.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 20: Family Ties

Clint sighed, knowing that was an understatement. In such a short time Wanda had formed a connection with Peter that everyone but himself was taken aback by.

Clint, however, saw it coming a mile away. Peter had filled a hole she had since she left Sovokia, and it was apparent why.

His grip tightened around the mug’s handle. “He reminds her a lot of her brother.”

“Reminds her?” Sam huffed wryly. “She’s practically taken on the role of his big sister.”

Rhodey didn’t look up from his screen as he said, “Then that makes you the annoying big brother.”

“Psh, whatever.” Sam waved him off. “Brother means I’m young. Old-man over here is pretty much the dad.”

Clint scoffed and set his coffee mug down in the kitchen sink. “Oh hell no. That’s all Stark. If anything, I’m the cool uncle.”

No one argued with his statement. Distantly, Clint wondered if Tony himself would argue with it if he were there.

He shook his head at the thought. As a father himself, he knew a dad when he saw one, related by blood or not. Tony had clearly developed something more than a mentor relationship with the kid, and he could deny that until his face turned blue; they all knew better.

After all, Tony called Parker his kid twice in front of them. They may have not said anything, but they heard it. 

Of all the changes they had gone through this past year, seeing Tony fall into such a parental role was one Clint hadn’t expected. It was nice. Dare he say it, Clint felt more relatable to Tony now more than ever. The billionaire somehow seemed more human, more like the dad side of him that lived away on a farm taking care of his own children.

It was just a shame that everyone else noticed it before Tony did himself. Clint could only hope that after all this, the man would accept that it was okay to get close to someone, that he and the kid were a good fit for each other.

After all this, they deserved some happiness in their lives.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 26: Building Blocks

Tony did, however, look at Peter's hand. And as he stared at those hands, he noted the sudden bout of anxiety that riddled Peter’s nerves. It was hard not too; he had seen it in himself too many times before.

“Well, I think it was more than just chloroform. It made me...” The flood of shame and fear that tinted Peter's voice came and went before Tony could call him out on it. “They had me against the wall. I couldn’t break the bands and they said they were using some experimental metal to hold me —”

“Adamantium,” Tony finished, the words escaping his mouth before he could stop himself. 

Peter eagerly sat up. “Dude, how do you know all this?”

Tony gestured another open palm in the air, signaling for him to be patient.

“Keep going.”

Peter sighed. He leaned back against the bed, his right arm gently and loosely wrapping around his midsection in hopes it would quell the pain that blossomed there.

“Mysterio, he used this...this gas on me. My arms were pinned, I couldn’t get the gas mask off. I think it knocked me out for a while. It was...” Peter’s voice dipped low, quiet. "I kept hallucinating. It was scary.”

Peter ducked his head, cheeks reddening with what Tony assumed could only be embarrassment. He could feel his blood pressure rising a bit higher, his heart rate spiking in a way that made his left arm twinge and tingle.

He remembered back in Germany when Peter referred to a sixty-five-foot tall Ant-Man as ‘scary.’ Suddenly this held so much more weight. They drugged the kid — his kid.

Anger that Tony hadn’t felt in days suddenly surged through him with a renewed fire.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” he said, soft and sympathetic.

Peter nodded, staying quiet.

Identity Theft │ Chapter 29: Breaking the Cycle of Shame

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice seemed distant, but her hand was firm on his shoulder, grounding him to reality. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony blinked, his every thought in high definition, his mind seemingly caught between then and now. The crisp white colors to his bed-sheets filled his vision, his eyes slowly coming into focus until eventually he could see even the finer crinkles from his own pillowcase.

The overhead lights to their bedroom were bright from above, harsh in comparison to the gently rising orange sun coming from the room’s window. Pepper’s warm body was settled next to his, a weight that dipped the mattress low.

“Hey...” she softly said, leaning further into his vision. “Another nightmare?”

Tony shook his head, his mouth dry, slacked open. His heart beat fast in his chest despite never having been jolted awake, never having woken up with a scream or a shout.

He slowly managed to sit up from his resting position on his side, the goosebumps that traveled up his arms razor sharp.

“No. It was...” Tony shook his head, his hand running down the length of his face. “I had a dream.”

There was a heavy silence that fell between them, the rhythm of Pepper sweeping her hand across his arm the only indicator that time still existed. The fluorescent lights from above began to dim away, allowing the sunrise from outside to cast a golden ray of copper hues into the room, bringing with it a brand new day.

He took a shallow breath in as she stared at him, exhorted him silently, softly and without any words.

“We had a kid,” Tony explained, swallowing hard. “It felt so real.”

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 9: Gray Area

“I’m not...not taking responsibility for my part in the argument with Peter. At the end of the day, he’s a teenager, and teenagers don’t like being told what to do, right? That’s not even a question, God knows I was the worst teenager to exist on this earth, hell, this universe. When compared to me, he can only go up. Way up.” Tony tossed his sunglasses down onto the bistro table, worried that if he kept waving them around in the air, he’d end up snapping them in half. “The argument wasn’t really the problem — it was, but it wasn’t. The thing is...I know what I said right before it happened. Before he got upset. It was like looking in a mirror, five years ago...having heard someone say alien.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

For the first time since talking, Tony looked May head-on, exposed eyes telling her everything she needed to know.

“Damn,” she muttered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “So...what’s his alien?”

Tony blew a deep breath of air through his cheeks, the few napkins still lying on their table tossing onto the ground.

“I brought up the whole...kidnapped, shish-kebabed, nearly dying thing,” Tony said, his voice heavy. “And by the way he reacted, I think it’s finally catching up to him.”

Surprisingly, May kept a straight face at the news. She looked to the left where the traffic passed by, reaching for the stem of her mimosa glass only to decide against it. Her unease, though, was a dead giveaway as she tapped her heel relentlessly against the ground.

“He did have a great distraction over the summer,” she mentioned, managing a small shrug. “Between hanging out with the World Renowned Avengers and going on a tour of the country with you, he didn’t really have time to let anything sink in.”

Tony stared ahead, nodding his head with little feeling.

May uncrossed her legs, the tapping finally coming to stop. “We said it was going to happen sooner or later, right?”

The reality of the situation was alerting, trickling into his brain in ways that he failed to make sense of. Tony’s eyes darted back over to May, a line in his forehead forming at the stress of it all.

“Yeah, but...” he trailed off, unsure of what else to say. But it wasn’t supposed to be now? But I thought we were in the clear?

But I don't know how to navigate this?

He sighed, giving his head a small shake.

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 10: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Tony balked at him, and then at the others — none of whom came to his rescue.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he exhaled, holding two hands high in the air with the sun from the skylights bouncing off his purple-tinted frames. “Exactly when did this turn on me?”

“It hasn’t,” Rhodey finally stepped in, albeit too casually for Tony’s liking. “It’s just...you’ve been a bit of a mother hen around him, don’t you think?”

His eyes widened to the point that not even his sunglasses could cover them anymore.

“Mother hen?” Tony echoed.

“Oh lord,” Sam muttered, rubbing at his forehead. “Here we go.”

Tony plowed right over him. “Last I checked, I’m not licking my feathers and sitting on eggs on day —”

“Tones...” Rhodey gently interrupted, “you yelled at the kid for forgetting to eat his breakfast.”

Tony’s reply was instant.

“He passed out.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey tensely tossed back, “and how many times did I drag your sorry ass to a doctor because you decided coffee was a great substitute for protein?”

“Hey, you just said this wasn’t about me —”

“It’s not,” Rhodey insisted. “It’s about Peter.”

“Yeah, Peter,” Tony repeated, tempered frustration lining his voice. “The same Peter who almost died a few months ago, the same Peter who we all thought was dead. The same damn Peter who I bought a casket for. Or am I the only one that seems to remember that? That is what started all this, after all.”

Natasha scoffed, eyes locked on the table in front of her. “It started something, all right.”

Tony placed two hands firmly on the table, leaning over and into Natasha’s space until they were nearly face-to-face.

Natasha didn’t so much as flinch when she looked up at him.

“Mother hen,” she pressed, “take a breather. Come off those eggs every now and then.”

Tony stood up straight, swiveling his head around to lock eyes on every team member in the room. None disputed Natasha, instead choosing to stay quiet — some with heads bowed low like Bruce.

Tony pointed his thumb to his chest, grounding his teeth together. “You guys got a problem with how I’m handling my kid?”

“No one has a problem, Tony,” Steve chided, hands in the air placaintingly. “Just...be careful. We all see how hard you’re trying with Peter. But the more you try to pull him closer to you, the further you may end up pushing him away. Trust me, I’m seeing it happen with —”

One look from Tony and Steve immediately got the hint.

The name still wasn’t welcomed.

“...someone else,” he opted on saying.

The lack of anyone running to his aid was more than enough for Tony to realize they all felt the same way.

Traitors, he figured. Every last one of them.

He sighed so loud it blew cookie crumbles off the table, shrugging so dramatically his arms felt disconnected from the rest of his body.

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 15: Slithered Here From Hell

Tony managed a deep breath, pocketing his cell away in his blazer. He didn’t want to entertain the question with answers. Instead, he turned back to Clint, the archer noticeably softening despite his discontent with the role assigned.

“FRIDAY will automatically pull any suspicious footage off their records,” Tony explained. “But if you see anything that feels off, you’ll —”

“Tell you. Yeah, I got it, Tony.” Clint dropped his arms down to his side, pocketing his hands deep into his jean pockets. He stared down Tony with curiosity, a look of both concern and uncertainty reflecting in his eyes. “What I don’t get is what you plan to do with Norman while Nat hacks their servers for answers. The man doesn’t exactly seem like the type for tea and biscuits.”

It was quiet for a long moment before Tony carefully spoke up.

“I have some things I’ve been wanting to get off my chest.” Tony’s voice grew hoarse, tired. Months of secretly fighting against a conglomerate had started to wear on him, and they weren’t even close to winning yet. It took everything he had to keep going. “Now’s a good time as ever for good ‘ol Normie to listen.”

The piercing hum bouncing off the walls of the room seemed to intensify, combining with both the electricity that ran off consoles and devices, and his racing heartbeat that sent a ringing through his eardrums. Tony straightened his blazer one last time, a deep sniff pushing back any anxiety that began to rise in his nerves.

He had meant it. This was their one shot. And Tony wasn’t about to blow it, not now, not that so much was at stake.

Three weeks ago they had time, he could throw as many neglected subpoenas in OsCorp’s face as he wanted and know that tomorrow would still exist for another chance.

Now? Whatever dirty experiments they were running — even after SHIELD shut them down, even after the government warned them to stop — it had gotten to Peter.

They had gotten to his kid.

All Tony needed was those documents in hand, Oz Formula or not. After that, there’d be hell to pay.

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 15: Slithered Here From Hell

“So, I ask again…” Norman furrowed his brows, hesitating before reclining back in the chair. “Why are you here?”

Tony raised his eyes to meet Norman’s burrowing stare, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

“For the kids,” he boasted simply. “Who are we without them, am I right?”

Norman huffed a slight, dry chuckle, giving the smallest nods along the way.

“Ah, yes, the OsCorp Internship Program,” he preened, a crease between his eyes telling Tony he hadn’t fully fallen for the set-up. Still, he continued on. “You know, my son Harrison is second lead to running that program.”

Tony adjusted himself in his seat, hoping the movement hid the eye-roll he was unable to stop himself from giving.

“I’m sure you’re very proud,” he acknowledged flatly.

Norman nodded, eyes settling, skin pulling tight in a few places.

“I recently became acquainted with an old friend of his,” he began to say, the pause that followed heavier than the stare he proceeded to give. “I think you know him — Peter Parker?”

The sound of the name assaulted Tony like a thousand pounds of shrapnel blasting through his chest cavity, hitting him harder than a bomb blowing through the fragile windows of an undersea bunker. He could feel the blood rush out from his face, his skin growing cold, his heart losing rhythm.

It was too much not to let Norman on, to not shoot glaring daggers his way — let him know that even speaking that name was a cardinal sin that could never be forgiven.

If his facade faltered in the second that passed, it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“The name is familiar, yes.” Tony's jaw tightened threateningly, a sound akin to a growl nearly escaping his throat.

Norman’s lips twisted into a small smile. Tony fought the urge to punch it right off his face.

“Very intelligent young man. Guided by the right hands, he could do wonders. Take this company right underneath me some day, assuming my son doesn’t do it first.” Norman’s tone was enough to have Tony grinding his teeth — lighthearted, interested, fascinated. Thrilled. He looked at Tony, really looked at him, hiding nothing beneath his features. “I tried getting him enrolled in the OsCorp Internship, but he unfortunately declined.”

“Sorry to break your heart,” Tony’s voice dipped dangerously low, raw and strained despite his best efforts. “He’s already in one.”

Tony made a face, something he was sure looked less impressionable than what he wanted. It was hard to stay neutral in the conversation. Less than six hours ago he discovered Peter’s impromptu, unapproved trip to OsCorp had resulted in something happening that could very well be poisoning him — or worse.

Now, in the same day, he managed to find out that Norman himself had made contact with the kid.

His kid.

Who, when all this was said and done with, would be getting a long lecture about hiding things from others. Like having a powwow with the man responsible for nearly killing them both, on multiple occasions.

Tony’s eyes briefly flitted away, a curse sitting on the tip of his tongue. He should’ve done more when he got that alert of Peter’s location in OsCorp. He knew then that trouble was afoot — he should’ve listened to his instincts.

“Mhm-hm.” Norman’s hum cut through the stifling silence. “I’m aware of his extra curricular activities. I looked into it — the Stark Internship.” He raised a single eyebrow. “Doesn’t exist.”

The words rang through the office like reverberating steel; harsh, frigid, striking a cord where it wasn’t wanted.

Things that had previously not added up in his calculations were suddenly growing crystal clear to Tony. Shinier than the near-empty glass of alcohol that sat discarded across from him.

“But other people…”

Peter hadn’t meant the Thompson kid at school.

He didn’t want that proof for himself.

Tony felt a sinking pit grow deep in his gut. Realization combined with hopeless understanding tore into his skin like a ravenous, feral beast, and his spine stiffened; a steel knife cutting straight into his windpipe.

Whatever Peter was keeping from him, whatever he was keeping secret — it was beyond them all at this point.

Tony could only hope that there wasn’t more he was hiding.

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 16: Web of Lies and Deceit

Tony rubbed his temples, his stock of patience quickly depleting.

“Up until an hour ago, the damn kid went off the grid,” he said, his attention falling back to his screen. “If Romanoff hadn’t dictated our destination when we clearly should have gone straight to Peter —”

“I talked some sense into you,” Natasha objected. “A superhero billionaire showing up to high-school right after a paranormal assault —”

“He’d be here.” Tony pursed his lips tightly. “Under our watch.”

“And you and him both would be prime suspect number one,” Natasha admonished.

“Yeah, okay, that —” Sam pointed a wagging finger in Natasha’s direction before quickly turning back to Tony, despite the man having his back to them all. “That mostly, but also — how’d he go off the grid if you’ve got a tracker in that panic watch of his?”

A growing headache had definitely bloomed into a full blown migraine, and this time, Tony couldn’t resist the eye roll that followed.

“It’s not a tracker unless he activates it.”

Steve’s response was instant. And firm.

“We know Peter’s home now.” With a deep breath, he adjusted his stance into a parade rest, hands locked tightly and securely behind his back. “We’re getting May Parker somewhere safe — he’ll be alone, we won’t have to worry about anyone else getting hurt. And until we figure out a plan, Clint’s got an eye on him. This is lining up to be in our favor. Like Tony said...we just have to act, and fast.”

The tension in the room didn’t ease. If anything, it grew.

Tony hung his head, rubbing dangerously hard at the knot forming along his neck. Things had gone from zero to sixty in an instant; he swore the tension in his shoulders was from the whiplash of it all. There had to be something he missed, something he failed to notice earlier.

The reflection of the screen could be seen along the glass surface the computer desk. Heavy as it felt, Tony lifted his head. Dread coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach, realizing with a sickening feeling that it simply didn't matter anymore. The how’s or why’s or when’s — the answers would need to come later.

First, he needed to help his kid.

From behind him, Natasha cleared her throat.

Tony craned his neck around, just as Steve broke free of his parade stance.

“Nat?” Steve stepped forward, brows furrowed. “What do you have for us?”

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 20: Parasite

Peter tried to stifle his cries, but each attempt left him shaking and gasping even worse than before. With each sob, Tony held him tighter, all but smothering him against his chest.

“I don’t — I don’t remember it.” Peter’s voice was muffled against the confines of Tony’s shirt. Still, Tony understood. “I don’t – I know I did bad things, I —! I know I hurt — hurt people, I —! I just...I don’t remember it, I swear. Mr. Stark, I swear, I don’t —!”

“I believe you.”

It was the truth. As God honest as Tony could ever be, the words slipping from his mouth without a single beat giving him a second to consider what was said.

It was the truth. And he felt ashamed he couldn’t say it sooner.

Tony pulled Peter away, hands cupping his cheeks and the smear of liquid that stained them. Tears had lightened the blood but also smudged it further along his face. Tony took his thumbs and moved what he could out of the way, his eyes never once straying from Peter.

“I believe you.” Tony eyes locked onto Peter’s so forcefully, that he couldn’t look away even if he had wanted to.

Tony needed that. He needed Peter to see the transparent honesty on his face, to know more than anything that he’d go to hell and back if it meant keeping the kid safe.

His kid.

Nothing would change that. And damn the universe for trying.

“We’re going to fix this, understood?” Tony insisted, intending to sound comforting but missing the mark completely. It had never been his specialty.

Peter stiffened, his whole body growing rigid in Tony’s grasp. The firmness in his voice must’ve been enough to trigger something, as his eyes averted and he moved to get away. Brows creased deeply and his gaze shot down, almost looking shameful.

He wasn’t having it. Tony rounded back on him — refusing to let go of him for even a second.

“Peter,” he started, staunchly. “I’m going to fix this. That’s a promise. One I intend to keep.”

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 26: Collateral Damage

“OsCorp monstrosity — up here!”

In the sky, Tony didn’t hesitate to shoot again. And again. Each repulsor blast kicking up dirt, leaving holes in its wake. Tearing up the ground with a vengeance.

A shrill cry of rage told him he’d pissed off the damn thing.

Tony pursed his lips and aimed his repulsor down below. Good.

“Why don’t you get the hell...” he slowly descended down, “off my kid!”

Peter shot his head up, his teeth barring in a snarl. The glisten of slime that regurgitated out of his mouth mirrored against the light from Tony’s arc reactor. The decaying matter steamed with brume as it fell down his chin.

“H͇e͍͕’̳͈̦s̲̹̥ͅsͫcc̯͇̫̾̄͌r̥̖̮̽̐͊ë̗̮́̓̉ͅa̟̭͐ͭͩͅm̟̥̌ͭm̠͙̑̐m͓̦̈́̆i̖̯ͭ͆n̰̽ǵ̺g̘͋ḡ̖…̘̼̦̠̺.̭̠͈͍.̳̤͈̠.̝̱̠.̦͖.̩͖.̺.̮" Peter’s lips were never seen moving underneath the pulsating excrescence. The voice didn’t come from his throat.“Y̽ȯu̇ ͐̿ẅ̂i͒́l͊ͮ̏l͆ͭ͒ t̒ͮ͐̓oͮ̀̓̈́o͗ͫͤ̾o͑̊̏̆̏o͆͒ͥ̚̚.̭̠͈͍.̳̤͈̠.̝̱̠.̦͖.̩͖.̺.̮"

Tony grounded his teeth, a blaze of rage following the next blast of repulsor that lit up the jungle. The electricity burned as it made contact with the symbiote, small pits of fire quickly lighting the grass up in flames.

Tony didn’t stop.

He wouldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Not until he had Peter back.

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 27: Valley of the Shadow of Death

Tony spun around, his repulsor-gloved fist landing squarely in Steve’s jaw.

The impact was enough to send Steve stumbling back.

Tony didn’t look back at the damage he’d cause. Not even as Steve smeared the back of his hand against the blood that stained his lips.

He made it five long strides down the hall before Bruce purposefully stepped in his way.

“Tony,” Bruce started, both hands outright — the syringe stayed tucked in his shirt pocket. Tony looked at him as if he’d lost his goddamn mind. “You need to calm down —”

“Sedate yourself, Banner,” Tony murmured, pushing him aside — and using little to no effort to do so. “I’m getting my kid back.”

Suddenly, two hands clawed at the back of his shirt. Tony cursed as Steve spun him around for the umpteenth goddamn time, nearly ripping his shirt right off.

“It won’t be Peter, Tony!” Steve stressed, clenching the material of his shirt against his shoulders, desperate to ground him back to reality. “You know that! You know that thing will kill everyone — you know Peter wouldn’t want that!”

There was something raw in his voice that took Tony’s breath away. Steve’s eyes were locked on his, fiercely unmoving.

The blue in them was burning.

“He’s gone, Tony,” Steve stressed, hands still grasping the front of his shirt, using it to shake Tony hard enough to rattle his teeth. “He’s gon—!”

Identity Crisis│ Chapter 29: Rebirth

“Mr. Stark, why’d you…?” Peter’s mouth moved, but for a moment, no sounds came out. He tore his gaze away from his wrist, looking at Tony as he swallowed hard to get his tongue working again. “I mean...why’d you do all this?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow, high. “Do what?”

It wasn’t asked out of annoyance, it wasn’t even asked out of exasperation. It sounded more like Tony needed clarification — and rightfully so, Peter realized, as he played with the fringes of his blanket. Feeling disturbingly vulnerable.

It wasn’t a matter of what Mr. Stark had done for him. It was a matter of what he hadn’t done.

Gave him a suit, gave him a means to be Spider-Man. Went against SHIELD to rescue him from a bunker under the sea — barely months after the Accords were dismantled, barely months after the Avengers were already on thin ice with the agency that oversaw their superhero doings.

Gave him a means to train, to hone in his abilities. Gave him a second home.

Never gave up on him.

Not even when he yelled, said hurtful things, did hurtful things. Not even when things were at their bleakest did he ever give up on Peter. Not even when Peter felt like giving up on himself.

“You went…” Peter didn’t realize his throat had grown tight until he had to force out his next words, “you went way out of your way for me.”

Little crumbles of wool piled up beneath Peter’s fingers as he picked at the edges of the blanket.

“That’s an odd way of saying thank you for saving my life, but I’ll take it,” Tony jested, a weathered smirk pulling at his lips.

Peter wasn’t able to find the same humor in everything.

“I mean, you didn’t have to…” Peter slammed his mouth closed, unsure of what to say that would do the situation justice. Words just weren’t suited for this. “You didn’t have to...do...all that.”

Luckily for him, Tony was fluent in Nervous-Peter-Parker talk. He understood the unspoken long before Peter had said a thing.

“Oh yes, we sure did,” he tossed back. “A sentient abomination pummeling Hulk twenty floors down a Vibranium building? Fortunately for you, that’s an Avengers level threat.”

Peter’s eyes briefly grew wide at the mention of the Hulk. He’d come back around to ‘pummeled through a Vibranium building’ another time. There was only so much even his brain could absorb at one given time, towering IQ or not.

“Well, yeah, but…” Peter shook his head to clear away the shock. “I mean...you didn’t have to...you could have —”

“Eliminate the threat?” Tony shook his head right back at him. “Not in a million years.”

Peter made a face — if he came off as insulted, it was beyond his control. The confusion had him by the reins and held him tighter than the grip he had on the blanket beneath him. If his hand squeezed any harder, the wool would combust into a million little fibers.

“Venom killed people,” Peter’s voice grew dark, rueful. “I killed —”

“You didn’t touch a soul.”

The moment Peter heard Tony speak, all of the air swept from his lungs. There was a firmness in his voice, so hard and powerful that Peter was sure he never never, ever heard the man speak in such a way.

“That wasn’t you,” Tony insisted, not sounding like he was trying to convince Peter — not even sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

Rather, he spoke the facts. Talking as if the sky were blue and the grass was green.

There was a lot about Mr. Stark that Peter had yet to learn, but there was one thing he always knew — long before he ever met the man. If Tony Stark said something was true...it was true. The sky was blue and the grass was green.

Still.

“You didn’t have to…” Peter’s eyes flittered away. “You could’ve let SHIELD take me. Or the government. You could’ve...done it yourself.” Peter decided eliminate the threat didn’t need to be said twice. But it still rung in his head, even as his eyes drifted up to meet Tony’s. “Why?”

Peter found himself looking at Tony’s injured arm, where his hand was gloved and a sleeve made of technology covered the limb from fingers to shoulder. The lights dancing up the length of the limb had slowed down, immensely, making Peter wonder if it really matched the pulse beneath it or if it was just some kind of effect for show.

When he returned his gaze to Tony, he found himself doubting that theory. The calm in Tony’s face, the restful stance as he stared at Peter and no where else but Peter — there wasn’t any panic to be seen, no stress or trouble that could be discerned.

His heartbeat was calm, his pulse peaceful. It was only when silence briefly took their conversation that Peter realized that same calm had radiated towards him, soothing each beat of his own heart.

“Because…” Tony smiled, slowly, until the grin cracked the lines around his weary eyes. “You’re my kid.”

A breeze blew the curtains back, and the sun swelled through the window — just for a moment, just long enough for Tony to speak.

Peter went to say something, but only took in a breath instead, the fresh air crisp as it hit his lungs.

He heard the words. But he heard what was behind them as well.

Three words spoken, three words not.

‘You’re my kid.’

Tony smiled at him.

‘I love you.’

Peter smiled back.

[lordpuzzle28]

Just went through a block-fest of a bunch of terf/"radical feminist" blogs like I do sometimes. and like. man.

their whole ideology is so fucking miserable. like, I knew we knew this already - if you perceive the world as entirely out to get you except for a particular group of conforming, morality policing internet weirdos, then yeah you're gonna feel pretty shitty about the world and your place in it. but even with that, there are multiple reblogs of ongoing discourse and piss-fights over the smallest aspects of life and of their beliefs. some terfs are "homophobic" and this is "bad," but their entire belief is based on demonizing a certain sect of queerness so I guess you only care about "your" queerness? how can you claim to be for all women when you're also infested with homophobes? more than that, how can you be upset at that when you've advertised yourselves as incredibly -phobic in general?

and then there was one terf was being ridiculed for saying she would still like men around because she's attracted to them, and got bodied by like 3 different people. and idk man I feel like if you can't have a sexuality in the antiqueer, fascist, self-policing cult group maybe you shouldn't be surprised by that. you've been trying to deny other people their own personal freedoms for however long now did you not think it would happen to you too?

Just like. imagine dedicating your entire beliefs, your mind, your energy, your personal relationships just for a feeling of being 'right', or even less than that, just the feeling of being 'part of' a certain super cool, totally-going-to-liberate-you internet gang, only to be even more thoroughly policed by the warring factions within it. "Are you "radical" enough?" what the fuck does that mean?

And yeah, if this is most or all of your social circle I'm not surprised so many terfs have a high suicide rate. what a miserable existence - having to prove yourself, over and over again, that you have the right opinions, the right credibility, the right politics and the right acidic hatred (which must be exhausting to keep up) - simply to maintain membership to the lamest fascist sect in the world.

anyway feeling pity for terfs and their miserable lives over now. lol. get out my blog and come back when you've learned to not give a shit about other people. that's all it takes dude

[literaticat]

you're the best. can i ask you why are responses to queries sooo slow? im and MG author and it seems forever to get a response...I would think that coming out of a pandemic editors would be hungry for new material.

I'm going to be as calm as I possibly can be because I know this is probably a sincerely meant question, and you may be new, and you haven't seen the year+ worth of discourse about agents and editors and what is happening in the pandemic within the book industry (and that despite lots of people "coming out of a pandemic", for us, these things are still very much ongoing!). A brief Pandemic Publishing history, from my perspective:

March 2020. We realize that the "pandemic" is officially happening. The Bologna Book Fair is cancelled, travel is cancelled, everyone has to work from home, it's confusing, schools are closed, nobody has child-care. We expect this to last a couple of weeks.

April 2020. It does NOT last "a couple of weeks." Now just for background -- publishing is already an extremely slow process with a lot of lead time - like, we are currently selling/acquiring books for 2023/24 publication. So that means that when all this hit, there were lots of projects in the pipeline already, things that were in various stages of progress and were delayed in Spring/early Summer 2020. They were delayed at that time bc of the combined factors of: the pandemic shutting down everyone's office, not to mention schools, libraries and bookstores, which meant no place to SELL books -- PLUS there are layoffs -- PLUS there are printing/shipping/supply chain issues meaning problematic to make or ship books -- NOT TO MENTION, people getting sick and dying all over NYC, which is where most of US publishing is headquartered.

Early Summer 2020. Shaken, but rallying, all editors and the entirety of publishing are now getting used to working from home. There is a huge learning curve here -- publishing is very much a "face-to-face meetings" and "paper trail" kind of industry and *nothing* about the office life was really set up for remote work. (Most publishers didn't even used to allow DocuSign for contracts, we had to send multiple hard copies all over the country before the pandemic!) -- People learned how to work zoom, and did meetings virtually. They quickly realized that electronic contracts and payments are a blessing.

Now, there are still problems -- like, editors having to work from tiny flats with their children crawling all over them, and designers having to be at the kitchen table instead of, like, a whole studio with the proper lighting and every kind of material available, and contracts people having no files at their fingertips -- but hey, everyone is muddling through.

Of course - bookstores and the like are still closed, and there are still big supply chain issues - and that's a HUGE problem for the actual publication part. But on the agent/editor side, we are all working on future books, so that work simply has to continue, or there won't be any books two years from now!

Summer/Fall 2020. Everyone is absolutely scrambling like mad to do all the work that didn't get done in Spring. There is now a backlog of projects in the pipeline, but OK. Everyone is feeling quite literally traumatized by the things that have gone on, but OK. Some people are still recovering from having gotten sick themselves, or are mourning family lost to the disease. But OK.

This time is as busy as I have ever seen it, for everyone - pretty much a non-stop whirlwind of work. (Both because of the things that didn't get done before AND the fact that nobody can travel or do anything else!) -- There is also, to be honest, a lot of crying. We all desperately need a vacation, and it shows.

Winter 2020/2021. Now mind you -- Aside from that very very rough few months at the beginning, which was just a very confusing time -- books WERE coming out, and WE WERE ALL WORKING, selling, acquiring, creating new books. All of our authors were ALSO working and creating new books. MORE, in fact, because a lot of them were at home for the first time in a long time! But remember -- there's already a backlog, right? So, ALL of these new projects have been slowed/delayed both because of the pandemic, and the backlog of already existing projects, creating a larger backlog of existing projects. At this point we are running on fumes.

Spring/Summer 2021. We are slowly coming out of pandemic pandemonium in personal lives. People are getting vaccinated. It's great. Some people might actually get to go on vacation! Amazing! But it's not actually "normal" yet in publishing-world, because again, there's still that backlog, and everyone is STILL working from home, which is ok, but honestly, still makes things slower for a number of reasons, and look, everyone is just exhausted, okay? It's been a lot.

So anyway that's, in a ginormous nutshell, why you might find that editors and agents are not quite as "hungry" as you might want us to be coming out of a pandemic. IDK. We are just people, my friend.

ETA: I realized that this explainer was JUST pertaining to burnout because of what was happening IN-OFFICE. Combine ALL of this with what was happening in the real world -- like, for example, the horrific brutality against George Floyd and others, and the subsequent intense social justice rallying in Summer 2020 and beyond -- climate disasters, like California being ON FIRE -- a lot of *spicy drama* in the book world -- and A GINORMOUS FLIPPING PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION... yeah omg. I think there could literally be a book about this, but I can't write it or read it tbh.

ETA x 2: (AND I didn't even touch on the fact that a huge problem for everyone I know was A LACK OF ABILITY TO READ during the worst of this! Which as you can imagine is a huge problem for somebody whose job involves READING BOOKS. I mean seriously there were MONTHS where I could not get through a single book, and I know for a fact I'm not alone. I'm JUST getting the ability back and I'm still scared.)

[whoreiaki-kakyoin]

Ngl I don't think people know how much better you get when you learn how to curate your own fandom space. Admittedly I was in the "no problematic content" camp when I was younger and holy shit the distress that I unnecessarily exposed myself to because "you HAVE to be angry at x content or you're encouraging it". Thank god I never got as far as death threats but I imagine that's not any good for your mental health either.

Just... it is so much more peaceful and healthy. Content creators don't make that content to squick you, they do it because THEY are curating their fandom space to what they can handle. The sooner we realise this the better fandom spaces will be

Yeah.... Yeah. I know I've commented on here that I find discourse and the like to be exhausting and a waste of energy, but exactly this. It does frustrate me seeing the way people bend over backwards trying to consume or enjoy only the things they're "allowed" to, trying to deem anything they dislike as "problematic," denounce the "right" things, and the way that they seek out content that clearly upsets them to harass content creators.

But it also makes me a bit sad for those people. We all have things that are past our limits. Absolutely. I definitely have content I've avoided (or even fics I've stopped reading if they got to be too much for me) because I knew it would be too upsetting/uncomfortable/potentially triggering for me personally. It doesn't mean I think the people who make those things are bad people! Just that I know myself well enough to know what I can and can't handle. (I also get the feeling that those extremely discourse-y spaces don't breed great relationships if you're constantly tiptoeing around friends trying to make sure you condemn and avoid the right things so no one denounces you as a bad person lol)

I think curating your own online space and taking breaks when you need to is so, SO much healthier than expending the energy to constantly get upset over what other people in a fandom are doing. If something upsets you? Block, unfollow, filter tags, take breaks from social media.... genuinely so much better on you mentally. Thank you so much for your perspective, anon, and genuinely glad that it sounds like your mental health is faring better now!

[bansheeoftheforest]

*slamming a dead bird on your table like that credit card meme* MAIJABI IS THE FIRST TO KNOW.

He sees Jekyll walking by late at night and goes to greet him, only to watch him lean on his cane a bit more, sigh, and suddenly just.. Jekyll Jr. Maijabi's cat. He is there. In a pile of clothes. Jekyll is Jekyll Jr. Maijabi does not know what to do with this information, but he imagines that Jekyll would appreciate not having to drag his clothes and cane to his office in cat form or, god forbid, get dressed in the middle of the hallway. He walks over, Jekyll is Terrified, but Maijabi just smiles and helps put everything away in his office, then holds cat Jekyll against his chest and lets him purr to self soothe.

OOO WAIT WHAT IF JASPER KNEW RIGHT AWAY? Like he smelled it when they first met? He thinks Jekyll saved him because he is also a were thing or shifter. He sees Jekyll Jr. and talks to him like he would Jekyll in his human form. The Lodgers think it's just a quirk of Jasper's, meanwhile Jekyll is having a breakdown because Does He Know?? He catches Jekyll transforming but doesn't react, just continues to ask him about the Exhibition and that's when Jekyll finally realizes oohhhh maybe he shouldn't freak out about the werewolf knowing he can turn into a cat.

OOOHGOHOHO OH MY GOD YES PLS YES.

Henry underestimating his joints thinking he can came back to his office in time, yet he feels how it flares up and it hurts so much that he can barely walk straight, not even with a cane, not even supporting himself against a wall, and he would prefer not to pass out in the hallway. He looks around to make sure no one is around, Maijabi noticing and quietly ducking behind a wall, only to see how Jekyll leans his back against the wall and then he... Shrinks. He stares in absolute shock as that little cat he just bought a collar for wobbly crawls out of the pile of clothes and lays down on top of them, seemingly absolutely exhausted. Maijabi can barely process it. Even through the dark ambiance of the corridor, he knows fully well what he just saw, and he can't stop himself from coming closer to the poor little cat writhing in the still-warm clothes. Jekyll's face shoots towards him in absolute terror, yet Maijabi just tsks softly and lifts Henry up, placing him leaned against his shoulder like a toddler as he grabs the clothes and the cane and helps Henry to move it towards the office. He can hear Henry's heart pounding in his tiny little chest, yet the moment everything is secured on the sofa, Maijabi cradles Henry to his chest and let the poor man rest. Maybe he would bring Henry back to his own lab and let him sleep on the catbed the Lodgers bought for Jekyll Jr. and only start asking questions once Henry has gotten some rest (and his clothes back on). Henry laying on the sofa in his office in absolute exhaustion with only pants and a loosely buttoned shirt bc his joints hurts too much to button more or get more clothes on as Maijabi walks around the office tinkering to make some tea, carefully and casually asking... How and stuff. Maybe Henry would decide he trusts Maijabi enough and actually tell him His Tragic Backstory of being a CatboyTM. Maijabi taking one look at him and deciding that yes. You seemingly are a catboy. But you are my son now. AHah you can't do anything about it now. <3

OohohoOOHOHOHO. Oh my. Oh my yes pls. Like Jasper not asking bc he thinks it's terribly rude of him (and he doesn't know werewolf or shifter etiquette) but he can definitely smell it. And it doesn't take long for him to notice all those lil cat quirks with Jekyll and the way he is just so... Catty. Definitely does not think much of it when Jekyll has been a cat a little too long and starts yelling for his food. Jasper cuddling Jekyll and just randomly (and jokingly) wondering why he is never this affectionate as a human and Henry looks like that cat from the vine "sir, are you aware that you are a cat?" and almost-- just almost runs away in pure shock (he wouldn't have been able to anyways. I have decided that The WobblesTM are canon to this au now). Jasper not noticing and just... Continuing to cuddle him. Maybe Jasper wouldn't even catch him, but Jekyll would decide to be brave and tell him anyways? And Jasper being confused like "...Yeah, I already knew that?" and just... <3

oh my god. Jasper and Jekyll having too much energy and jokingly starting a discourse debating if felines or canines are better-- surprisingly Jasper is team feline and Jekyll team canine so they are just very aggressively complimenting each other XD

[miggydiaz]

For the salty ask 1, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 14, 16, 20, 22, 23 and 26 for cobra kai pretty please

My answers are so long, so I am putting this under the cut @wonderwolfballoon! Also I just noticed your Daniel icon I SWEAR I’M NOT DRAGGING HIM TO BE MEAN!!!

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?* My biggest IDGI ships for CK are probably Elimetri or Kiaz. I’m not here to yuck other people’s yums or anything, but I do think there is something to the idea that Migueli isn’t popular because it’s a ship predicated on mutual respect for one another. Kiaz has the obvious enemies to lovers vibe and I just generally don’t sail those ships. Elimetri has... its problems, IMO, most especially around the idea that Demetri has to like... save Hawk from himself? Idk. I just like romances that I feel are based on love and mutual respect and not ...tropes.

 I am also not a Lawrusso shipper although I have a lot of those on my dash and you all are great! Again, not yucking yums! Daniel just makes me want to head butt him too much to pair him romantically with anyone 😂 I don’t even want his wife with him. He needs to self reflect~ 

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

I once saw someone ship Amanda and Anoush and I noped out of that so fucking fast I almost tripped over myself. I’m not sure if they’re popular. I just think some people feel the need to get Amanda out of the way to sail their ship and stuck her with Anoush which... no. Just no. Let Amanda be a messy single queen with a martini hobby, thanks! 

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?* 

Not in CK. I’m lucky because I pretty much stick to my little Migueli bubble and I’m okay with that? Lmao lord knows the Squad on my dash is all about the DISCOURSE™️ so idk if I just don’t feel the need to get sucked into the wider ship wars because we have good healthy debates, but so far, so good. 

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?* 

I never hated it... I just didn’t have many feelings on shipping with this show in general at first. Then I was in the CK tag one day and I saw Migueli fan art. Then I discovered @afurioushawk‘s falconry series and it was all over for me after that! So fandom DID make me love a ship, just not one I hated.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? Oh boy. How much time do you have? In some instances, it’s a good thing season 3 happened because otherwise, this would be a multi-page essay on the problems with race and class privilege as it pertains to Sam LaRusso and just some... generally not nice comments about Demetri that I’m conflicted about because I’m not sure if the writers are intentionally trying to write him a specific way and it’s just not translating to me or what. But season 3 revamped both of their images with me a lot. I’m way more flexible in terms of Demetri, but lmao I was the number one Sam LaRusso hater for a minute there (or maybe number 2, I can think of at least 1 other person who was in that boat with me back in like... August/September, but I won’t call them out because I don’t want them to get hate...) However, I have grown a bit in my opinions of Sam, and even though I still think she’s responsible  for a lot of shit she NEVER gets held accountable for, I also think that’s a reflection of the adults around her too, and this includes my otherwise unproblematic queen, Amanda.

But honestly, my most hated character (other than the obvious villain that is Kreese) is Daniel. No matter how handsome Ralph Macchio looks in cable-knits, because Daniel has always been a sanctimonious, shit starting drama king and I say that about KK Daniel too. I’m not saying Daniel was the ~true villain~ or anything, or that Johnny was innocent -- I can only drink so much Red and Yellow Kool-Aid -- but Daniel’s always been annoying to me as a protagonist, and turning him into a smarmy wealthy car salesman who is also a class traitor did not do him any favors in my book. I will say, I also like Daniel more in season 3 than I have in previous season, but since he is the adult, I will be mad at him longer than I will be at the kids, ya feel?

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

 Johnny’s entire season 3 storyline. The sheer level of REGRESSION at every turn drives me bonkers. It’s like watching him go through all of the stumbling blocks of season 1 all over again, but without the “he’s learning! He’s going to make mistakes!” free pass that I was willing to give him the first time around. He regularly jeopardizes Miguel’s recovery and it’s played for laughs. He fucks up on every level with Robby. He spends most of his time running away when things get hard or too real. He drops the ball completely with Hawk, and like, not to put too fine a point on it, but a lot of Hawk’s issues are because Johnny put Hawk on this ‘flip the script and be a badass’ path and then offered him no guidance for how to walk that path and instead left him in the hands of Kreese. And then he has the nerve to go to Hawk and basically be like “I made you what you are!” lmao yeah Johnny, you sure did, that’s why he’s breaking peoples arms, hoss. And then all of the nonsense with Ali and Carmen, like... if you were planning on teasing KK fans with Ali and him getting back together, why write her as married in the first place? Why even tease the idea of Carmen and Johnny until after you were sure what you were going to do with Ali as a character? Instead, they do what they did in season 3 and it makes him look like a colossal jerk. So yeah. Literally every choice they made with Johnny this season, I hated.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? People who hate Tory are not valid, sorry not sorry.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change? I would have kept Miguel entirely out of Tory and Sam’s beef. Or at least not directly inserted him into it like he was with the kiss. I know the writers thought it was necessary to push Tory to the point of inciting a fight at school, but I am just so exhausted over girls being unable to fight about anything but boys. Also I would bring Aisha back.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom? 

I am probably biased, but I still maintain it’s Migueli. Look, Miguel stood up to Kyler for Eli and Demetri both. Hawk joined CK because he saw what it could do for some skinny nerd who was getting his ass kicked. And he took to CK, really took to it! Even flourished before he started getting mixed messages. And he and Miguel were pretty much inseparable after that. They coordinated their wardrobes ffs. Hawk dubbed him El Serpiente and no one else calls him that — it’s Hawk’s nickname for him. Miguel confides in Hawk only secondary to Johnny, who is like a father to him. The entire Coyote Creek exchange shows they can fight and disagree but... well, to use the cliche, they don’t go to bed angry, you know? They’re square the very next day. Hawk is the first person at Miguel’s side when he gets kicked over the balcony and the LOOK he gives the second floor where Robby is? That boy is out for blood immediately to avenge Miguel. So much of his s3 behavior is fueled by that need for vengeance because MD is wholly responsible for what happened to Miguel. And Miguel is so confused and betrayed by Hawk’s shift in behavior, and yet still holds out hope that Hawk will see through Kreese’s BS and come with him to The Dojo I Refuse to Name. And when Hawk does make that deflection finally, he shows up at MD with Miguel. There’s so much more that I know I’m missing but whether someone ships them or not, that is a tried and true love and respect for one another, a willingness to fight for and defend one another that you don’t often see in TV friendships... or even in most tv relationships. And I just think that’s the best ❤️

22. Popular character you hate?

 Daniel, hands down. I mean... I don’t even necessarily hate Daniel, you know? I just think it’s really, pardon the pun, rich that a guy of immense wealth and privilege can’t get a therapist or turn to his far too patient wife for help with his existential crisis over his high school bully opening up a karate dojo to make some money and help a kid who is getting the crap kicked out of him. I get that Daniel’s narrative is necessary for the rivalry, but it does nothing to make him sympathetic as a character.

23. Unpopular character you love?

 Tory, definitely! Everyone hates her and then there’s me and the Squad over here banging away on our Coors Banquet cans yelling TORY RIGHTS! Seriously she catches so much flack for a teenage girl who is... the sole income provider for her family? At 17? While caring for a sick mom and a little brother? And fending off a creepy landlord? Tory has it so rough and then she meets a cool girl at her dojo who asks her to hang out at some fancy ass country club which is probably the nicest place Tory has ever been in, and then she gets talked down to and accused of being a thief and has another girl lay hands on her, only to find out that same girl is her new boyfriend’s ex and... ugh. I HATE that Tory gets shit all over when Tory and Sam wouldn’t even have beef if Sam had apologized to Tory as she SHOULD have. Tory isn’t innocent, but damn, I’d be pressed too.

 My other unpopular character I love? Nathaniel. Seriously that kid is THE best. He’s a literal child but is out there like I WILL FUCK YOU UP, even though he’s MD. Honestly, his Cobra Kai energy is so ferocious I won’t be surprised if he moves back to CK eventually. Anyway, I love him.


26. Most shippable character?

 Miguel, hands down. It’s because he’s so affable and sweet overall. And because his hair is so fluffy and pettable that no one can resist touching it. I like to imagine that one day he and Hawk are talking about their hair and Hawk makes a joke about how Miguel’s mane is getting so long that it’s going to be bigger than his own, and then he reaches out to ruffle it and internally has a bisexual meltdown because oh no IT’S SO SOFT AND NICE. But uh... anyway, yes. Definitely Miguel.

[blissfulparker]

yeah to add to the discourse of age gaps: imo if you’re young, like just out of high school, or even in the early stages of undergraduate school, and you become attracted to someone who has a very large age gap to you, it’s valid. like, it just happens, but what really matters is that you dont try to act on it.

like it’s all fun and games to have crushes on them, but actually being with them will probably be very mentally exhaustive and overall horrible for your mental health. like what kat said, they prey on you because you’re still naive, and they can definitely manipulate you into thinking you need them because you don’t have this or that but they can get it for you, etc etc. they’ll probably end up demanding things from you that you can’t necessarily give yet or just aren’t prepared to give, but because they’re way older than you, that power dynamic makes you feel obliged to give it to them.

In relationships, 5+ year age gaps when you’re 18-25 is just iffy because around that time you’re still figuring out who you are, and your brain is still developing. but people still go for it so, whatever. not bashing or shaming anyone, just saying that’s it’s peculiar. like personally I can’t imagine myself being 24 and being attracted to a fricken 19 year old, let alone an 18 year old…

and being 19 now, sure dating someone who is 24 doesn’t sound too bad, but I’m literally still a freshman, going into my sophomore year of uni, and typically (if we’re following the capitalism route) 24 year olds are already in grad school or just finished their undergrad. so I’d just find it weird if I go for them, because even if we’re both adults, we’re still at different life stages—the older person would be in debt, they’d have their degree, and they’d be applying to jobs, whilst I’m still trying to get my degree and also trying to live that college life.

Everything this anon said!!! Being like “oh he’s hot” when he’s a few years older is far different than acting upon it. It’s disgusting the things people will do to young people just because they know they are vulnerable

[vanmccannonlyfans]

I’ve definitely learnt to not think my ‘faves’ are these amazing flawless people now like, I kind of like to enjoy their art and not get too involved in much else but with catb I do really love interacting on here with others and they do hold a special place in my heart. I just wish people understood that sometimes and also I 100% agree that something happened that caused Van to change. I don’t just think it was that he grew up because I personally just think it’s more and having struggled with mental health issues myself , the possibility this could be related does make me sad to think about that so many people just wanna give him shit for it like it’s either defending them to say he does nothing or saying he’s an awful person which is just !!! Frustrating tbh.

I can’t even imagine the pressures of trying to put on an act to see fans either like if I was having a bad period I just wanna hide away and cry until I feel better 💔 I guess I just hope they all do what they wanna do, but we get an update on the band at some point and if any of them do need help that they get it.

i think the greatest disservice you could ever do to someone is to place them on a pedestal and deny them their inherent humanity by expecting them to be perfect at all times. that's the most dangerous and concerning part of fandom imo and it sets both sides up for failure and disappointment by not recognizing that everyone is flawed and is going to slip up sometimes.

i think the reason so many people don't recognize antisocial behavior as a symptom of mental illness is due to the degree that people with mild mental illness (or even just kinda quirky personalities) control the discourse, especially online. like people love to talk about supporting people with mental illness and the importance of patience and empathy but fail to recognize that symptoms aren't uniform and antisocial behavior and other "problematic" behaviors are symptomatic and not moral failures.

yeah shit like having to perform all time and act as if that's who you are a person would be exhausting and even celebs who are super nice people need a break sometimes!

i do think we will get an update eventually but for now i just hope they are all well! 💓

[sour-n-salty-citrus]

antis outright killed my discourse mood today and I. Feel stupid at times b/c of my wording on things. I know I don’t have my identity revealed on this account but I still feel humiliated knowing they shit talk me yet also pissed at how they think they’re so righteous and clever for “disproving” me and my statements against their arrogant takes.

my pinned post is literally just a post containing links to sources and information and these pro-bullies are just so >8( why haven’t any of these people gone to jail for the behaviour they condone, and over art no less? It’s frustrating. Especially when I made this account with the original intention to educate others but then they twist my wording so I had to edit my source post saying I’m pretty much just a pro-fic/proship opinionated person now. Sense, the wc fandom is like talking to a dense brick wall.

might change my url tbh, idk.

Geez, I totally feel you there bud. But believe me, you have no reason to feel stupid! I mean c'mon, it's unreasonable for you to know every single fact and argument relating to fiction and the law regarding fiction and etc etc. It's unfair too! Proship/profic people just want ourselves and others to enjoy fiction without being harassed for it, why on Earth should we have to memorise an entire damn textbook just because of that?

I definitely admire you for wanting to educate people, but I feel it's a fruitless endeavor. A lot of antis know deep down there's nothing actually wrong with proshipping, it's just that we're an easy target for the moral crusade. People want to feel righteous, that they're getting mad over and defending against the right people, so they'll do whatever it takes to make you and your argument out to be as bad as possible. Twisting your words is a very easy way to do that to, and naturally it'll make you upset that something you said is being portrayed in a way you didn't mean it.

I'm lucky I haven't really had to deal with much of the pixel-defenders, but then again I'm not a discourse account... I'd definitely recommend changing your blog to less of an education-centred one to more of a general anti rant/proship positivity one? You honestly don't owe anyone your time and efforts, if an anti wants you to engage in an argument with them so bad, kindly direct them to your resources page and tell them they can come back when they're actually interested in a respectful discussion.

Me personally, I can't be bothered with all this. I've made my stance clear, and if people think I'm the scum of the Earth for it... I don't honestly care. I know I'm not doing anything wrong or being a bad person for it. At the end of the day, it's just exaggeration and lies. People are going to hate me for the colour of my skin, for the anime I like, for the fanfiction I write, for the sound of my voice, for the way that I dress, for my gender identity- for every reason under the sun. It's whatever by now. No matter how well constructed your agument or how many hours you've spent researching, there will always be someone who firmly believes you deserve to burn in the pits of hell, and nothing you say can convince them otherwise.

I know it's frustrating as fuck, and I'm sorry you have to deal with that. You've done your part by providing resources, and it's honestly ok for that to be all. If an anti wants to be educated, then they can, but in the end, you can drag a camel to water but you can't make it drink.

If you think changing your url will lessen the harrasment, then absolutely do that! Hell, you can even be proship/profic on the down-low if you want, ik a lot of people who do that. And yeah, "brick wall" is right. It's absolutely exhausting, and just a waste of time. I'm not in the warrior cats fandom, but yeesh I can imagine. It seems like the more kid-friendly the original media, the more vicious and absolutely not kid-friendly the antis behave 0_o.

I wish you well! If you'd like to continue engaging in discourse then that's totally cool, and you might want some bug-repellant spray for it, hehe. If you want to take a step back, that's perfectly fine too! Do whatever you feel is right for you <3

[piccolina-mina]

Okay @michaelmaria they flagged my response to you stating it violated community policies and couldn't be appealed.

So, now it's about the principle.

Haha. I don't do it THAT often. I usually get me thoughts out there eventually. The last one was what regarding Maria's lifelong fear of her own mind, right? 

I think one of the things that happens, especially in a fandom that sort of gets off on focusing on some character's respective traumas and fears and all of that is that if it doesn't look a certain way, most people don't consider or think about it at all.

There are very real elements of all of these characters. Liz, for example, not wanting to be a runner like her mother but ... she IS a runner. Every day, she's actively choosing NOT to run, and that's important, that's huge for her.  Rosa's very real fear of her own mind. 

Maria has that too. And it's something that I don't think anyone considered much, and I love that they're addressing that more this season. Her mother isn't even 50 and already has a degenerative brain disorder that science can't fix. That's terrifying. And it's something that affected her grandmother too. 

So the likelihood of it reaching her is greater, and that's freaking scary. It's so scary, and so it puts so much into perspective.

She's "the fun friend" for many reasons, but one of them being she has to live her life and have fun before it's too late. She's 28. That means she's preparing herself for not being HERSELF in the next 20 years. 

But she's also stuck, because she's stuck having to take care of her mother and run this bar and make money, so that hinders her being able to live her life fully the way that she may want before her own decline. It's like your working to exist and not getting to live.

And she's also determined to find some solution for her mother because it would also save her too. Because if and when Maria's health declines, is it safe to say she didn't anticipate anyone being there to take care of her or her mother? She doesn't want to burden her friends runs so much deeper than not wanting to talk to them about Mimi.

But this, this makes her anger at Liz just so ... heavy. Because yeah, there were layers to it, and the fact that she never felt safe as is as a WOC is a huge component. But she's terrified of becoming like her mother. And it wasn't that she didn't think it was going to happen, it was scary to think it was happening that soon. 

She thought she had more time. And Liz, who has a mother and a sister with Bipolar and who knew about Mimi's mental health decline and probably knew about Maria's grandmother too just didn't consider any of that. 

Maria has spent years battling this, preparing for this, having this fear of her own mind. And it explains the little things, like maybe why she hasn't fully processed what happened to her when Noah possessed her.

 She just... moved on, which is scary to think about, isn't it? She woke up with Michael telling her that I guess her drink had been spiked, and she could have been laying there thinking that whole time that she was showing signs of an episode. 

And man does that 'i never want you to leave' sentiment hit different when you consider that. As does her breaking down and crying into him ... because she's just exhausted and scared. Putting Mimi in that facility felt finite for her mother, yes, but also for her. 

There is discourse about Michael being a Product of the system he came up within and how that affects him. And discourse about Alex not wanting to be like his father and redefining what it means to be a Manes man, and Kyle's image of his father being shattered as he had to recognize that his father was a flawed man. And Liz and Rosa not wanting to be their mother.

But this with Maria, it's heavy too. 

And so, since of course you are a miluca shipper and mentioned it, this also puts some things in perspective about their relationship too and what Michael represents for Maria because with this discussion so often it's only spoken through Michael's lens of what she represents for him with their romantic relationship and for Maria most of the discussion focuses on her friendship with Alex and how dating Michael affects that. But not what Michael does and represents for her.

But if you consider that Maria has spent most of her life with a deadline, believing that she would succumb to the same fate of her mom before she's even middle-aged, that she doesn't have time,well, her conflicting feelings about Michael and Alex make more sense. 

She was already sacrificing a lot.  And Michael came in like a lifeline. And he was taking care of her, without a second thought. And that's so unexpected but also made her potential fate less scary. Not because she thought he specifically could be the one who took care of her if and when that happened, but there was a reminder that maybe someone actually could. 

She was attracted to him, no doubt, but she actually started to care about him when she saw that he was caring and softer than imagined. 

And she falls him a little more because... he keeps showing up for her. Even when things look bad. 

So yeah, by putting herself first, by I guess being selfish, it wasn't really about Alex at all. And it was something different than "being a terrible friend." 

She lives in the now. Because the future just isn't guaranteed the same way. And I don't think she wanted to give up on that feeling, of comfort, and safety, and stability and being in a relationship with someone she cares about who cares about her while she still can. 

And even with Michael, when it looked like he was descending down a dark path and he kept pushing her away. She basically let know... she just doesn't have the time for his sh!t. 

But yeah, he's someone she could bring her fears to even if she didn't have to speak about them. He didn't ask questions. He was just ... there. But we've also noticed that they talk a lot. We don't always see it onscreen, but it's implied often enough.

They actually communicate with each other. They tell each other things now. And she has really opened herself up and allowed herself to be vulnerable in a way that she doesn't for most other people.

She's allowing herself to be known. As herself. While she still is herself.

But yeah, knowing that she has lived her life accepting that she will just most likely fade away before she's even 50 just really explains a lot about her character, her relationships, and how she carries on....

[callmehopeless]

Wow. With clueless anons like that, no wonder mental health issues are still stigmatized and those who suffer from them made to feel like shit and that it's all in their imagination. No one deserves that. You do you and the rest is no one else's business to judge.

My rage is compounded by the fact that autistic people are CONSTANTLY made to feel like our mental health problems are trivial in society. It grossly undermines the fact that the amount of work I have to put in, in general conversations or to convey my point or even just to do a job, in a society that was not built to support me in that way, is painful and a constant struggle that leaves us exhausted. The feelings of lack of self-worth and instances of depression are so high in the community, and it’s discourse like this (when your feelings are trivialised, and spoiler: yeah, that is pretty much your biggest fear) that inspires this pain and emotion in me

Making assumptions about anyone from their online persona is, at best, a fools erand, and at worst is a really fucked up way to project your own issues

People get to know things about me at the speed I feel comfortable disclosing them online - and no sooner. Things like the above message put pressure on me to “prove” I’m struggling, and justify my mental illness

And friends, that’s ableism, and that’s how you fuck someone up

It’s a good thing I’m one whole badass and won’t tolerate this kind of shit

[pro-bee]

the road less traveled

Note: I cooked this up in the last 24 hours to try to work through some writer’s block on my post-reunion WIP. So this is a bit of a stream of consciousness mess, but if I don’t post this now, I’m gonna chicken out and all my other ideas are going to go PFFT. Also, this is inspired by all the discourse you guys have been floating around lately so it’s your fault.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Nada. Generally season 17. Possibly AU depending on how you look at things. (Also assumes Summer of Secret Sex happened don’t start with me)

Relationships: Implied Tiva. Vague mentions of Bishop/Torres. General team bonding.

Words: 1700

Summary: Sometimes a case hits a little too close to home. Sometimes it makes people want to do something about it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How could they have known that they each had feelings for each other for so long and not done anything about it?! That had to have been torture!”

Bishop has been on a rant since their team got to their table at their favorite watering hole, decompressing after yet another wild case that has prodded at more than a few wounds between them. It was a story of star-crossed lovers, who held back on their feelings for one another for fear of ruining their friendship (and losing their jobs), until one made a tragic mistake and the other paid for it. One of those times where they get no satisfaction out of getting their suspect, because of the chaos left in its wake. 

“Don’t ask me. I have been in love with the same man since I was 23 and I still haven’t fully figured it out.”

Ziva’s unexpected candor (and unexpected help in the investigation) catches the younger agent off-guard; she wasn’t counting on things taking such a personal turn. Bishop gives her a sad smile, though the answer clearly isn’t the one she necessarily wants to hear at the moment. Torres shifts nervously in his seat across the table from her, unclear on where this conversation is headed, on edge the way he is whenever he’s around his predecessor.

The admission gives McGee pause, but maybe this isn’t the time to press.  “It’s funny, looking at us all now, with families of our own, I can’t imagine having to wait that long to finally be with the person you love. I mean, waiting for years just to act on your attraction…”

“Oh, we definitely acted on it,” she offers in typical Ziva bluntness. “We just failed to follow through on any of it.”

McGee nearly chokes on his drink at the revelation. The wheels start to spin in his head, his eyebrows creased in confusion, as he pieces it together at lightning speed. 

“You guys were sleeping together?!”

“I mean, not the whole time,” her hand waves around on its own, as if to punctuate the sentence, “But… some of the times, yes.”

“Like when?!”

“Now look who is butting in! I would expect that from Tony, but you?” She tsks at him, with mock sternness, until she notices the desperation in his eyes as his world seems to have turned upside down. “Okay, fine… Like… Like, when Gibbs retired, for instance.”

(“Gibbs retired?” “When did this happen?” their newer counterparts interject in unison, but their curiosity goes unanswered in the firestorm happening around them.)

“Back then?! That was… Ziva that almost fifteen years ago! You guys have been together for fifteen years?!”

“No! That is my whole point! We were not together together. We were just… what do you say? Letting out air?”

“Blowing off steam?”

“Yes! That!” Her own drink nearly flies off the table.

“Wait, that means—  How did you keep it a secret for so long?!”

“I knew!” Palmer offers helpfully.

“I am fairly certain everyone knew, eventually.”

“No way!  Gibbs didn’t.” 

“Gibbs definitely knew,” she snorts at the memory of being on the receiving end of his beady stare one morning when she and her partner were just a hair more heated in their bickering than usual, even for them.

“And you lived to tell the tale?!” Surely Boss would have banished them to desk duty, or worse yet, Inventory, if he found out they were hot bunking.

“I believe it was a case of don’t ask, don’t tell. Besides, it’s not like it affected our work.”

“True, you two were just as unprofessional as always.”

She flings her discarded crumpled straw wrapper at him.

His mind still reels, though.

“How— how did I not know that my best friends were hooking up behind my back?!”

“McGee!” she lilts, stretching his name out like a song in the way only she does,  “You cannot be serious! You wrote a whole book about us! Several, in fact!”

“For the last time, Tommy and Lisa were not about you and Tony! Those books were works of fiction!”

“Oh come on McGee,” pipes in Torres, who had until now tried his best to find any escape from this forced socialization. “Even I knew that! And I’ve never even read your books.”

“Or a book, period,” his partner mutters into her glass.

“How do you even know about—?”

“Bishop,” he shrugs.

“Ellie!”

“What?! It’s not like it’s a secret, Tim.”

“It’s personal! And again, Tommy and Lisa are fictional.”

Bishop and Torres roll their eyes in unison.

“Well, then, you must have psychic powers in addition to your keen observational skills as an agent,” she teases, with only a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She can’t believe they’re really hashing out their scars in the open like this, but it is a brave new world.

McGee finally shakes his head and laughs in disbelief, and even she can’t help the grin stretching across her face. Old friends, indeed.

She takes a breath and grounds herself back to reality, reminded again of the point she was trying to make in the first place. “What I am trying to say is that it is so easy to get caught up in your own fears when it comes to matters of the heart. You get so scared that you are not enough, that you are going to upset whatever it is between you, and that when you inevitably mess it all up, and you will, that you are going to ruin the one good thing you have. So you lie to yourself that you do not have it and that it does not mean anything.”

“Are we talking about you or the petty officer now?”

“Both,” she answers with a hint of a wistful smile. McGee returns with his own expression of sympathy, fully aware of all those twists and turns that have led to where his friends are now.

The group sits in companionable silence for a spell, the weight of the week’s case lifting, only to be replaced with familiar exhaustion. 

Ziva feels a buzz coming from her pocket, reminding her that, yes, these matters do come to a close somehow.

- Having fun on a school night?  

- Going down memory lane with the team. 

- The good ones, I hope?

- They are now. :-) Just about done, heading home soon.

- Can’t wait. Kiddo’s asleep. ;-) Love you. 

McGee across the table notices the way her eyes crinkle as she glances at her screen. Once again, he is grateful for these small mercies they’ve been granted. How this story eventually got the happy ending it deserved.

“Well, this has been fun, but it is getting late and I should get home.” She pushes herself off the seat and grabs her coat, untangling her curls from the collar as she twists her arms through the sleeves. “I will see you all soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’m beat too,” Torres chimes in, “I’ll walk you out.”

The gang exchange goodnights and talk to you laters, with only the faintest of intrigue from Bishop as her partner, who is not known for his chivalrous nature, follows Ziva out the door.

Standing face to face now, at their full height, Ziva narrows her own eyes at the man, seeing right through him and daring him to come out with it, already.

“Ziva, what you said in there… Is that why you keep pushing me about Bishop?”

She stares at her feet for a second and breaks into a genuine grin now.

“Ah, he finally catches on.”

He breathes in, swallowing his nerves with every gulp of air reaching his lungs. She supposes it’s time to put him out of his misery.

“Look, Agent Torres, if there is anything I have learned throughout all of this, it is that time is the most precious resource we have. I know that it sounds like a cliché, believe me, but it is the truth. When I think about all the time Tony and I wasted over the years… It was not worth it.”

“Yeah, but it seems to have worked out, right?”

“Yes, it has,” she presses her lips together in a regretful smile. “But it very nearly did not. We missed out on so much, I missed out on so much, and it was all because I let fear get the best of me. I liked to tell myself that I was not scared of anything, when really, I was scared of everything.”

Torres absorbs the confession with appropriate gravity.

“Nick, do not let fear rule you. I promise you, whatever happens, taking that chance is worth the risk. I wish I had had the courage much sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of pain.”

He glances through the blinds in the window at the object of this discussion, only for Ellie to catch his eye at that moment. They each avert their gaze on opposite sides of the pane, feeling decidedly like the suspects they’ve just interrogated, without fully understanding why.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You are a smart man. You will figure it out. You bested me, did you not?” It’s his turn to laugh, and she answers in turn. Maybe she has gotten through to him, after all.

She reaches out to gently pat his elbow. “Take care, Agent Torres.” 

With that, she takes her leave and heads down the street towards her car, the heels of her boots clicking down the sidewalk with every step, leaving Nick to reflect on her words of wisdom. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, unsure of how to proceed. With one last look into the bar, he turns in the opposite direction in search of his own vehicle, more confused than ever. Yet somehow he knows that the former agent is right.

What he doesn’t realize as he turns his back is that Bishop takes one last look at him, Ziva’s words ringing in her ears as well. That maybe blazing the road not travelled is not as scary as it may seem. 

- Bishop, you’ve got a big mouth. See you tomorrow.

She grins at her phone in spite of herself. Maybe that’s a thought for another day. 

[tonyglowheart]

This entire thing is a rant, feel free to ignore it, but I saw your post about how destiel fans can’t win in this context, and yeah. So have some rambles.

I’ve been thinking about the fact we (current spn/destiel fans) can’t win all night... I’ve seen so many people talking about how homophobic it is - and while I would very much like to argue, as every point I’ve seen made by a non-spn fan has been wrong so far, if I did everyone inside the fandom would agree and everyone outside would either call me straight or pity me for believing it’s okay.

(Cas wasn’t even sent to hell lmao. He was sent to angel death (the empty), a place he has escaped in the past. Other points, like that meta about spn has been predicting exactly this for months, that Dean ended up sobbing on the floor because he was so upset, like that death means next to nothing on spn, like that there is two episodes left, etc etc. you feel me right? I just don’t want to post wank to other spn blogs atm, we’re getting enough frustration as it is, no need to add to it.

It’s also worth pointing out that the bar is very, very low. Spn is a prominent TV show - not a Netflix show, or indie, or whatever - and it just said “main character in gay love saved the world”. [insert gif of ghostfacers dude saying that gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day here]

I just saw someone saying that spn having Naomi try to brainwash Cas out of loving dean makes spn homophobic (it is a conversion therapy parallel). My first response to that is that Naomi was the villain lmao? I guess we can’t write villains doing anything homophobic because having villains do homophobic things makes, uh - checks notes - villains look homophobic, and clearly we can’t have that.

There certainly are legitimate things to criticise spn about, but this isn’t it lol.

Also now some people are unironically trying to cancel Jensen because “his acting was homophobic, and so he’s clearly homophobic”, nevermind that he’s an actor and his character struggles with understanding his emotions (which I think he played excellently, myself. That scene had a very Dean delayed emotional response), nevermind the support he’s given to us queers in the past. Like. Idek man.

We would have been laughed at if we got no destiel, too.

It would have been worse, had the writers pulled a dumbledore. At this point I also trust the writers not to pull a GoT - they have explicitly criticised that ending in spn’s canon.

Spn’s writers did that by making the main villain of this season, Chuck / God, say GoT had a good ending. To reiterate a previous point I had: villains do bad things because they’re bad. And the bad things they do make them bad. For the people out there not still following, if someone does something in a story and it makes them a villain, that is explicitly telling you the story (and probably the writers) thinks that thing is bad. In this case, Chuck likes to write things for him, and we the audience have been shown and told that is bad.

Apparently thinking a gay confession is good in 2020 makes me straight. Seems unlikely, but whatever. Sorry for the length, I guess I went overboard, I’ve been holding it in lol. Anyway, DESTIEL IS CANON 💚💙 hope you have a good night

Helloo supernatural anon I hope you are living your best life right now. Yeah I’m like..... skeptical and leery myself but having lived through some absolute garbage discourse that is general purity wank, as well as the C/QL greater fandom here and on Twitter I find myself... much more wanting to question the “general wisdom” of things esp in terms of negativity, bc a lot of the time I find.... it’s wrong? Like so wrong. Or at least presents such an incomplete picture of the whole situation and also presents it in such a removed context that words that have meaning and are operationalized in a certain way for a reason, no longer have meaningful usage.

Anyway I don’t... know too much about the specifics of Spn but someone I follow is into it and talks a lot about the Gnostic stuff and that all was very fascinating to me, and I also have been grappling a lot with cultural Christianity bc of cmedia and the way ppl just *clenches fist* unthinkingly or uncritically slap some Christian norms on it and call it a day 😩 help I’m Tired. My thing here being... I actually got tired of the uncritical “superhell”s at some pt bc I am, in fact, incredibly exhausted with cultural Christianity, and because it does seem like, even possibly(?) without the Gnostic stuff it’s different from a “hell” or other Protestant-derived afterlife concept, and also yeah that it wasn’t seeded out of nowhere, it was set up to happen, which then... lends credence to the idea that whatever the current era of Spn is doing, the current showrunners are doing it with purpose.

And idk I just... refuse to believe the concept that ALL of the fans of Spn - esp the ones who have been following it still, or got back into it and are following it currently, are acting under delusion or are fooling themselves into liking it or thinking it’s good or whatever. I personally find that kinda infantilizing and patronizing and playing into issues of dismissing things women and/or other marginalized identities like.

Plus I find the concept that (from what I think I’ve been seeing Spn fans say) that the current era of the show is quite actively grappling with itself, its past, its legacy. to be very interesting and compelling; it hearkens back to like an old lore kind of feeling, of a thing that has grown into a nigh undefeatable monster and realizing that, also realizing that the only way to defeat itself is through grappling with its own nature and transforming and transmuting itself into something else. I personally find that more plausible and compelling than “Supernatural has been actively and continuously queerbaiting for 15 homophobic homophobic years., so right now we’re all very sorry for you because this maybe is no longer queerbaiting but it’s still homophobic and it can never be anything different ever.” I’ve been sort of tangentially aware of Spn thru the years and didn’t we agree, around the time of that in-universe play about Spn and with the lil Destiel shoutout, that Spn has come a ways as far as coming to terms with its fandom and working to treat its fans better? Why the sudden regression into “oh no, Supernatural is and forever will be homophobic and a hate crime”? 🤔 

The rest under a cut bc the ask is already long and then my rambling will get longer-

But yeah I mean..... I get that the legacy of Supernatural has been certifiably Rough, but I think people also forget how different of a time 2005 was? Hell, how different of a time 2015 was, even, prior to, say, Obergefell v. Hodges. Now I’m not saying that to blanket-excuse Supernatural, but like, you look at mainstream shows from the era and... there’s a lot of shit lmao. The fact that Supernatural has existed this long seems to me like.... maybe we CAN look at how it’s developed through the years vs just insisting it is what it was 15, 10, hell, 5 years ago. Especially since, to my knowledge, there’s been showrunner changes? Which seems to me like it would... affect things? I mean honestly, I remember back when I got into Spn for a hot second because of Castiel, I remember watching panel, Q&A, etc vids thru the years, and like... I thought we agreed that... it was the fans who were going a bit far pushing the shipping question like literally ALL the time to the actors, who are not in control of the show and.... like at the time.... that could have had personal implications for them? And yes homophobia bad, and people can still be allies despite that, but again like.... I do feel like - from what I’ve seen - that these guys were NOT ready to deal with a lot of that but they’ve (okay Jensen I’m talking about Jensen here) genuinely grown and learned? Also how many years ago was the essay autograph thing that people keep trotting out, like what year was it in and what year of spn was it, and what were the prevailing opinions on LGBT issues and bisexuality then.

I’ve been seeing some murmurings of identity politicsing surrounding ppl who enjoy Supernatural, and I’m sorry that that’s happening to you, it really fucking sucks and it’s also the dumbest way to “make” or “win” an argument because it shouldn’t ever be a final determiner, just factors to consider when considering what life experiences might have informed someone else’s PoV and views as well as maybe how you can better communicate with them. Instead of it being a “weapon” or “tool” to either dismiss someone or de facto validate an argument.

Also yeah I get it that you don’t want to send discourse to spn blogs bc I imagine you guys ARE actively grappling with all the bs rn and it’s a lot. Even just from like, the stuff I see around, I’m like tired of it. I’m genuinely having more fun with ppl who are having a good time with Supernatural than the ppl who are hating on it, even in this sort of backhanded “oh we’re not clowning YOU we’re clowning the writers and showrunners who think you should be satisfied with this,” when... yeah? the people who HAVE been watching the show and therefore... know what’s up.. DO seem to be? And all this based on *fake gasp* context. And that’s where the backhandedness becomes kind of poisonous to me, because it implies that it IS bad, and that you SHOULDN’T be satisfied, but poor little you are but don’t worry, we’re not making fun of YOU for liking garbage, you’re just the hapless victim who is consuming the garbage bc... idk, whatever reasons ppl are coming up with ig.

idk man it’s 2020. Fandom isn’t activism, performative or otherwise, it’s okay to let people enjoy things even if you think they’re “objectively” bad, and like... I don’t know if people can call something bad when they’re not even working with the whole context and instead are dealing with rumor and reputation.