#calling it's fans 'scums of the earth'

[seijorhi]

Wither and Bleed

sorry for the wait y'all <33 Daishou Suguru x female reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader w.c 4.6k tw: dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, nsfw, stockholm syndrome, mentions of blood, alcoholism, mild smut

Daishou eyes the bottom of his glass dispassionately, watching the amber dregs of whiskey roll as he slowly tilts it – pointedly ignoring the sound of footsteps approaching, the low, mocking whistle that follows.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, Daishou, but I gotta be honest, this place is a dump and you look like shit.”

There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, his eyes are glazed, bloodshot. Despite the heaviness in his head, the liquor fuelled haze and exhaustion that makes pulling a coherent train of thought… somewhat difficult, he’s not so far gone that he can’t recognise the grating voice and accompanying laugh. 

One more. One more, and maybe then he’ll stumble off home to continue drinking in peace. That, or he’ll pass out the second he hits the couch. At this point, he’s not picky. 

“Another,” he rasps at the bartender, whose only response, aside from the surly look he sends Daishou’s way, is to unscrew the cap of the bottle of cheap whiskey and tilt it back over his glass. Glaring, all the while. 

Once upon a time, Daishou might’ve said something to that. Made some snarky remark, goaded him ‘til he got a rise – or got his ass thrown out.

(You’d chide him for it, too, in that exasperated tone of yours. He’d be tempted to think you were serious, but you’d sigh, call him hopeless and your hand would snake in his on the walk home anyway.)

Disdainful sneers, the staring, the whispers and pointing, baldie behind the bar wouldn’t be the first stranger to recognise him. Daishou can’t even blame the guy, really. A woman goes missing, all eyes turn to the husband. The boyfriend. The ex. He might be a piece of work, depending on who you asked –an asshole, arrogant, a conniving son of a bitch – but hell would freeze over before he’d ever lay a hand on his girl. On any girl. 

So, yeah, he gets why the guy’s staring at him like he’s the scum of the earth. Doesn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow. 

“You planning on ignoring me, then?” 

“Trying to,” he mutters, accepting the drink with a short dip of his chin. The whiskey burns on the way down, warming his chest through. Bottom shelf liquor’s too cheap to enjoy for much else. Daishou closes his eyes, “Leave me alone.”

And that stupid, suit-wearing, smug asshole laughs, and pulls out the seat next to him. 

Fucking terrific.

Kuroo tuts, motioning at the bartender for a drink of his own, “Aw, c’mon. That’s no way to greet an old friend, is it?” He waits a beat for the reaction that doesn’t come, the mirth in his eyes fading somewhat, then sighs. In a more sober voice, he says, “I heard Yotsuya Motors dropped you. I’m sorry, man.”

The muscle in his jaw tightens, his knuckles turning white. Dropped was a good way of putting it. Closer to the truth than the bullshit story they’d peddled online and to the fans, the one wherein Daishou and the Yotsuya Motor Spirits had amicably reached the decision to part ways before the beginning of the new season. 

‘This isn’t a position any of us want to be in, Suguru. You’re a good player, you’ve done well this past season, but you have to consider how this looks for both the team and the V League as a whole. We’re not saying you’ve done anything wrong – of course not – only that the public perception holds weight these days.’

And so it went. He’d sat there, numb, and listened for fifteen minutes while the head coach and upper management explained that him ‘voluntarily’ stepping down was in his best interest. Pretending, all the while, that they were on his side. That they for one second actually believed in his innocence. 

The cowards couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

None of which makes enduring his old rival’s fake fucking sympathy any easier. 

“For what it’s worth,” Kuroo continues, “while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind–”

One minute, his drink is in his hand, the next, he’s hurled it against the wall behind Kuroo’s head, the glass shattering on impact, cheap whiskey sliding down the paint, and Daishou’s on his feet, chest heaving, muscles taut. Hands shaking as they flex and curl around nothing. 

For once, Kuroo’s stunned into absolute silence. 

The whole bar stills, a deathly quiet falling over the room. The other patrons gawk at him, wide eyed and horrified – a violent unravelling they’re eager to glut themselves on – no noise but the forgotten hum of 80’s rock drifting through the speakers. 

No one breathes.

No one moves.

Daishou, shaking, trembling in the cold wake of his own dissipating rage, shudders out a strangled breath. “She’s not–” the words stick in his throat; tight, painful. He forces them out through gritted teeth, “She’s not dead.”

Kuroo, staring back at him with some inscrutable expression, says nothing. Does nothing, aside from slowly lowering his drink – still untouched – down to the bar, as though Daishou hadn’t just pitched a glass tumbler right past his head. At his head, technically. 

“Out,” the bartender snaps after a tense beat, jabbing one thick finger towards the door. “Get the fuck out!”

Daishou can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. 

“She’s not dead,” he repeats, his voice hoarse. 

Through all of this, it’s the one thought he won’t entertain. No matter how many times he’s hauled back into the police station, or someone recognises him from the news and the dirty looks and whispers start. No matter how much hatred and vitriol and accusations are thrown his way, that thought alone is constant. 

You can’t be dead.

“Out!” 

Daishou doesn’t need to be told a third time. He spares the raven haired bastard one last look on his way out, sneering, and lets the door sweep shut behind him. 

The place was a shithole anyway.

And he can pretend, for a minute or two, that the churning, sick feeling eating away at his insides is the liquor, that the sheen in his eyes is purely due to the icy bite of the wind as he stumbles off in the direction of home.

Too much alcohol flooding his veins, too screwed up to register the prickling on the nape of his neck, or the footsteps that follow after him, down the narrow laneway – a shortcut he’s taken a thousand times.

When the blow comes, striking hard and fast at the back of his head, Daishou drops like a stone.

—

When Daishou was seven years old, he fell out of the tree in his backyard and broke his arm. He also managed to knock himself out – for all of about five seconds.

Long enough to scare the hell out of his parents, anyway. When he woke up, bleary and dazed, his parents hovering over him, Daishou didn’t feel any pain, not immediately. That’d come later, trying not to blubber and wail in the back seat of his dad’s car on the way to the E.R. At first, though, it was just… sort of like being shaken from a deep, deep sleep. Disorientating, more than anything else. 

This isn’t like that at all.

Coming to, all Daishou can focus on is the pain in the back of his skull. His eyes are too heavy to lift, his limbs sluggish and sore. From a dry, cotton mouth, a low groan escapes him.  

At first, he assumes he’s at home – lying sprawled on the bathroom floor, having hurled up his guts through the night. Wouldn’t be the first time, and considering his sorry state, he’d hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be the last, either. 

“Suguru.”

Warmth. A loosening in his chest. Despite the discomfort, the sound of your voice never fails to soothe. In the weeks that you’ve been missing, Daishou’s dreamed of waking up beside you. Of rolling over and cracking an eye open to find you right there, fast asleep and curled up beside him, where you’ve always been. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

You stir when his fingertips trace along your jaw, smile in that sleepy way of yours, catching his hand, keeping him there. And even in his dream, when there’s no reason for his chest to tighten, a lump to settle in his throat at the sight of you, it does. 

“Suguru, listen to me!” your voice pleads.

There are other dreams, ones where you’re lying on the living room floor surrounded by a pool of blood. There’s a kitchen knife sticking out of your chest, and he’s the one holding it. 

Daishou prefers the ones where you’re alive. Safe. Home with him. 

“You have to wake up.”

Why? He wakes up and you disappear again. Cheek pressed to the cold bathroom tiles, sick to his stomach and head throbbing.

And you still won’t be there.

“Please.” Your voice sounds… different. Not soft and loving, not the sleep tinged murmur he usually hears. “Please, Suguru, you’ve gotta wake up! Open your eyes for me.”

Daishou doesn’t want to. Pounding head or not, he’d stay in the dark with you – your voice, strained as it is – as long as his subconscious would allow. But that’s not a choice he gets to make, leaden lids slowly prying open, squinting under the influx of light.

The first day or two after you disappeared, Daishou convinced himself that despite all the evidence to the contrary, you weren’t gone gone. An accident, a miscommunication, dead phone, fuck, a fight he didn’t remember picking; he clung to any excuse, any explanation that left room for you walking through the door, sheepishly abashed over all the fuss caused. 

He would’ve forgiven you – for anything. 

The days passed, the cops came by, dragged him in for questioning, and Daishou started to realise that you weren’t staying with your parents, or a friend. You weren’t pissed at him for something stupid he did or said. You weren’t coming home on your own. 

Which left the alternative. 

People who disappear like you did; out of the blue, no warning, no trace – they don’t come back unscathed. 

If they come back. 

Daishou’s had weeks now to sit with that – while he drowns himself in bottom shelf whiskey and cheap beer, wallowing in his own fucking misery, you’re going through an unimaginable hell. 

Blinking against the brightness, the room slowly comes into focus, his eyes adjusting, and Daishou’s heart leaps into his throat. He forgets the pain. Forgets that he’s spent weeks – months, now – thinking over every awful eventuality and drinking himself stupid in the process. All he sees is you; sitting up in bed, hair tousled, wearing an old, faded tee two sizes too big, looking the way you do in the dreams he has where you never disappeared. 

“Suguru,” you gasp, the noise choked, halfway to a sob, your wobbling smile mired by the sheen of tears brimming behind your lashes. 

But Daishou doesn’t see that. Doesn’t register it, not as he scrambles forward, his desperation to touch you, feel you, make sure you’re here and you’re real overriding every other sense–

Only for the cold, metal handcuffs hooked from his wrist to the broken radiator to pull taut, jerking him to a stop. 

“… The fuck?” he mutters, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Experimentally, he tugs on it again. 

It doesn’t budge. 

Daishou swallows, mouth dry, blood running cold, and as this new, unsettling reality takes root, slowly drags his gaze from his cuffed hand back to the bed. To you, watching him with a devastation that has his heart clenching. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his subconscious sings, the warning bells tolling, and for the first time since he opened his eyes in this unfamiliar room, Daishou sees you.

The mottled marks of red and purple, fading yellow littered across your exposed collarbone, trailing along your neck. The shadows under bloodshot eyes, the pallor of your skin. 

And Daishou remembers.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him through tears, the words spilling out as though you’re confessing some great, unforgivable sin. “It’s my fault, Suguru. It’s all my fault.”

His mouth opens – all that comes out is a strangled rasp of your name, which only serves to make you cry harder, shoulders shaking and a hand clamped over your lips to stifle them. 

Daishou’s never wanted to wake up from a nightmare so badly. He’s never wanted so desperately to pinch himself and prove he’s not dreaming.

But at the sound of footsteps approaching, a change sweeps over you. You stiffen, freezing for the briefest of moments before you hastily set about wiping away the evidence of tears, shooting him a pleading, desperate look he doesn’t really understand.

Not until the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, and Daishou’s confronted with the man who took everything from him.

One by one, the pieces fall into place with horrifying clarity. 

The bar, their ‘chance’ meeting, all that goading– ‘For what it’s worth, while you’ve always been a cheating rat bastard, you don’t strike me as the girlfriend murdering kind.’ 

A small, insane part of him wants to laugh hysterically.

He settles for a baser instinct. Strains against the chain at his wrist, face twisted into a feral snarl, and hisses, “You fucking asshole.”

Kuroo’s eyes crinkle with a grin, but his attention doesn’t remain on Daishou for long. On cue, you shuffle to the edge of the bed, shoulders low and eyes glistening. “I-I’m sorry, Tetsurou,” you murmur, meek and demure.  

The fucker laps it right up. Coos as he makes his way over, disregarding his other captive entirely. Two long fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. He holds you there, lets his thumb brush along your lower lip. You shiver, and that too he greedily drinks in. 

He doubts very much that Kuroo’s forgotten about him, yet the way he stares at you – insatiable, a craving that goes too deep, a yearning too consuming – and you back at him, Daishou may as well have been invisible 

A wave of disgust seeps through his bones, tainting his blood, curdling in his stomach – but he doesn’t look away. He can’t bear that, either. 

When Kuroo finally decides to close that gap and kiss you, you don’t offer a shred of hesitation. You surrender to it, breath hitching when he catches your lip between his teeth and nips at it– 

(The way you used to when he’d do the same.)

–and when he breaks away, a strand of his spit still connecting you, and moves to cup your tear stained cheek, you nuzzle into him, peppering soft little kisses to his palm.

“I know, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice a touch deeper, clearly affected by how sweetly you’re trying to pacify him. “But actions gotta have consequences. I warned you what’d happen if you brought him up again,” he pauses, and chuckles a little, “and you know I’m too much of a jealous bastard to let that kinda stuff slide.”

Hooded, hazel eyes flicker back to him, pinning him in place. The amusement in Kuroo’s face fades, leaving behind a blistering cold contempt as he regards his old high school rival. 

Daishou sneers back. 

“You said you loved him.”

“I don’t,” comes the immediate response. Too quick. 

Kuroo scoffs. “You still mumble his damn name in your sleep. He the one you’re imagining when I’m buried inside of you, making you cum, sweetheart?”

You’re fucking right it is, you piece of shit, Daishou thinks viciously. The words themselves sit on the tip of his tongue, prideful and sharp, itching to be inflicted. Damn the consequences, he might’ve said it just to see the look on that bastard’s face – except Kuroo isn’t even looking his way. Isn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention, idly toying with a lock of your hair as if you aren’t clutching at him, eyes betraying your panic like a deer in headlights, and Daishou feels sick all over again. 

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“N-no, of course not!”

“No?” Kuroo’s brow arches upwards. “You sure ‘bout that?”

There’s no answer you can give that’ll convince him, yet silence proves equally damning. You seem to realise as much, mouth opening and closing as you try and fail to conjure up the right words to diffuse the situation. Kuroo offers you no out, letting you dig your own grave with the shovel he’s given you, taking some kind of sick satisfaction in your distress. 

Unable to summon anything more than a choked squeak, you stretch upwards again, a delicate hand on his jaw, and kiss him. The action is desperate and clumsy, borne from panic over passion or affection. Kuroo accepts it eagerly all the same, one arm snaking around your waist to draw you closer – or rather, to keep you from slipping away ‘til he’s had his fill of your lips. “I love you,” you murmur against him. “Only you.”

Though they’re shaky, the words stand stronger than those that came before. 

His nose nudges against your own, a look of contentment gracing his features. “Not yet, but we’ll get you there. On your knees, pretty girl.”

Your face crumples in dismay, lips parting only to fall shut with an audible click. As Kuroo’s grip on you loosens, you obediently slide off the bed and onto your knees.

“Arms up.”

Trembling like a leaf and looking faintly ill, you obey, letting him tug your shirt – his shirt, from the looks of it – up and over your head, carelessly tossing it aside. And though you flinch, biting down on your bottom lip, eyes glossy, burning with shame and humiliation, you don’t make a move to cover yourself.

You must know better.

His blood roars, heart thundering violently against his ribs. There’s no pretending he doesn’t see the love bites and bruises spanning your chest, nor the smug, triumphant look in that fucker’s eyes when he notices Daishou looking, his body tensed, shaking with barely contained fury. 

Kuroo strokes your cheek, “Keep your eyes on me. Just you ‘n me, yeah?”

You nod. Without prompting you reach for his belt, the clinking of metal and the hiss of Kuroo’s zipper rattling in his skull, the deep, husky groan that slips from his lips when your fingers slide into his pants and curl around his cock, pulling it out.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Daishou doesn’t want to watch you kiss a trail from Kuroo’s navel down to his cock. He doesn’t want to see the way your thumb swirls along the head of his dick, smearing his pre only for your tongue to follow its path, lapping it right up.

He doesn’t wanna watch you lick your lips, lean in and suck Kuroo’s cock like a well trained slut while he palms at your tits, but between the rage and disgust and the nausea crawling up the back of his throat, Daishou’s frozen in place.

Guided by the not-so-gentle grip he has on the back of your hair, you take more of him into your mouth with every bob of your head, your other hand diligently working away at what doesn’t fit. He allows it for a minute or two, watching you try your best to take all of him with a hiss of pleasure.

Eventually, though, greed wins out. Kuroo’s hips cant forward, bucking past your lips to force his cock deeper, grazing the back of your throat. Eyes widening, you make a surprised noise and try to pull back, allow yourself a little breathing room to set a pace you're comfortable with, but Kuroo’s having none of it. He growls once in warning, grip tightening around your hair, holding you in place, and begins to fuck your face in earnest.

“That’s my good – little – whore,” he grunts, each word punched out with another cruel thrust of his hips. 

The sounds of you gagging on the dick in your mouth, your choked little whines and whimpers burn through Daishou like wildfire, igniting something deep. A faint stirring in his gut he wishes, more than anything, he could smother entirely. 

He doesn’t look away. 

It’s only when the lack of oxygen becomes too much and you claw at Kuroo’s thighs, tears streaming down your face that he finally relents, letting you pop off his dick with a heaving gasp. With nothing else to tether you, you collapse against his legs, boneless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut. 

They crack open, however, looking up when his hand comes to a rest on the crown of your head, “Say it again. I want to hear it.” 

The demand takes a moment to process, but you swallow and tell him what he wants to hear. “I love you, Tetsu. More than anyone.”

He grins, lazily stroking your hair, “I know, sweetheart. Now c’mon, up on the bed. I’ve been been dreaming of your perfect little pussy all day, wanna fuck you properly.”

—

Hours pass. Half a day, a day. Maybe longer. There’s no light down here, no windows to track the path of the sun, the shadows creeping across the floor, but he can feel the endless drag of seconds and minutes ticking like a slow suffocation. 

After fucking you to the edge of exhaustion, Kuroo had carried you out, cradled to his chest like something precious, and left him alone in the dark. 

Left Daishou to scream and rage and cry like a fucking baby. It doesn’t help any. His bones and muscles ache, the skin of his wrist rubbed raw trying to move to a position that doesn’t scream with discomfort, the cold, unforgiving floor beneath him offering no relief. Mere feet away lies the bed Kuroo fucked you on, with its pillows and blankets, soft, plush mattress.

With his eyes adjusting to the complete lack of light, Daishou can only make out a vague shape in the darkness. In some kind of fucked up way, he decides it’s a blessing in disguise.

Being able to see the bed’s another cruelty, the promise of comfort and warmth when he’s shivering and cold and lying in his own filth, placed just out of reach. And while the thought of lying in the sheets he’d fucked you in (raped you in, a voice reminds him) makes his stomach turn, he’s not so sure that given the chance, he wouldn’t shove those thoughts aside for a soft reprieve and a few hours of rest.

Some messed up part of him wonders if the pillows and sheets still smell like you.

So no, it’s a good thing he can’t really see the bed, or the door, or much of anything, really.

Besides, it isn’t the hunger pangs or the lack of sleep or the dull, throbbing pain from his joints that bother him the most, it’s the feeling of inhaling razor blades doused in fire he’s subjected to with every shallow, rattling breath. The last taste of water he’d had… would’ve been before the bar, however long ago that was. Too long. More than a warm bed, more than food or freedom from the cuff around his wrist, Daishou thinks he’d just about kill for a single sip of water to wet his throat. 

More than likely, that’s the whole fucking point. 

Left to rot in the darkness, Daishou has plenty of time on his hands to think, musing over the bed in this little windowless room, and the other door he suspects must lead to a bathroom. That asshole went to some effort in getting him here, he’ll admit, but he doubts all this was solely for his benefit.

You were here when he came to; obviously he’d kept you down here, the question was for how long? Did he keep you chained up and hungry in the dark when you wouldn’t play nice? The way you’d melted for him, the affection, the goddamn look in your eyes when you’d said that bastard’s fucking name–

The fear that’d shone there when you’d said his. 

Daishou knows from the depths of whatever’s left of him, that he could never, ever hate you. If he starves to death alone down here, if you’re the one to plunge a dagger into his heart yourself, if you forget all about him and buy into the delusional fucking nightmare that psychotic prick keeps peddling, he’d love you. That much is immutable.

But hatred’s too soft a word for the thorn riddled vines that sprout and twist inside of him, ripping away at muscle and flesh, choking his organs, his veins, everything that he is – because of Kuroo. 

When he hears those footsteps again, the clicking of the altogether unnecessary locks, Daishou can’t help the wide grin that cracks at his face. “Was wonderin’ when you’d come back down to gloat,” he croaks, manages a laugh too, though it feels like dragging his vocal cords over sandpaper.

Having flicked the light switch on (half blinding Daishou in the process) Kuroo fixes him with a sardonic smirk. “Missing me already?”

“Hate waiting around.”

“Ah well, what can I say? I had better things to do.” His smirk broadens, a cruel glint under too bright fluorescent light as he plops himself down on the bed Daishou’s been doing his utmost to ignore and stretches out, rolling his shoulder and neck. “Prettier things.”

A stab of something dark and ugly wrenches between his ribs. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits through cracked, dry lips, and before he can think better of it, adds, “Mommy didn’t love you enough, Kuroo? That what this is?”

Kuroo doesn’t snap the way he expects him to. He doesn’t lash out like he would’ve when they were hot headed teenagers desperate to grind the other into the dirt and lord it over them. The muscle in his jaw jumps and his eyes narrow, sharpen – but his expression is quick to smooth over. Water off a duck’s back. He lets out an amused snort, rising from the bed. 

“Y’know, as entertaining as it was watching you self-destruct, losing your volleyball career, your fans, friends, all those nights you spent searching for her at the bottom of a bottle – and it was entertaining, believe me – I think I like this better.” 

A short, sharp burst of pain. Warm copper spills over his tongue. 

“You’re not gonna survive this. Even you’re smart enough to have realised that much.” He crouches down low, at eye-level, just out of reach, appraising him with a tilted head – as though Daishou’s some whimpering puppy at the pound. 

Daishou’s not a fucking puppy. 

“Most likely it’ll be the dehydration that kills you first,” Kuroo continues. “That only takes a few days, but with water, you could probably make it two, three weeks before your body starves itself to death – plenty of time for your muscles to begin to atrophy, which’ll be painful as hell, not to mention how bad the isolation’s gonna fuck you up. And who knows, maybe I’ll be nice and bring you something to drink every now and then, throw you some scraps from dinner. I might even let you out of those cuffs for an hour or two, so you can walk around down here, stretch those legs of yours before they completely shrivel up… But you won’t see her again, ever.”

Scowling and hateful, Daishou spits at Kuroo and bares bloody teeth. 

Kuroo wants to treat him like a dog, fine – but wolves gnaw through flesh and bone to free themselves from hunting traps, and he ain’t about to just keel over with a whimper and make this easy for him.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Tension crackles through the air like an oncoming storm. 

Daishou falls back against the radiator, breathing heavy and Kuroo wipes at his cheek with the pad of his thumb and huffs out a dry laugh, eyeing the bloody digit. Looking back at Daishou, he stands. “You look thirsty, I’ll go get you some water. Can’t have you croaking on us just yet.”

He’ll bite his fucking throat out if he has to. 

[lucy-the-demon]

The one thing i hate about the Stardew valley fandom is how a lot of people demonize mental health issues. Like, Being somebody with clinical depression, PTSD and autism it really upsets me when people are mean about Shane and Kent.

They treat Hailey like she's the perfect woman because she's mean then Treat Shane like the scum of the earth for being mean as well.

I have a caffine addiction, and while it's not as horrible as having an alcohol addiction it's still an addiction that im trying to overcome and i have depression as well. So seeing people treat Shane like that, plus calling him a liar when he's not 100% happy and sober all the time it really upsets me to see how he's treated, and i don't like him because I want to fix him, its just nice to see depression portrayed so realistically and to feel represented in media and i just want to be there for him. I can relate to him, and when people insult him and treat him like the bad guy for being mean and depressed and not 100% sober i feel like im doing something wrong and I'm a bad person for having depression and anxiety

And i have PTSD over very different things then kent, but I understand things that trigger memories to events, if I see the person who mistreated me in life or if somebody mentions middle school I get really upset and will go on a rant about it, when I get so upset I get angry im brought back to those horrible memories, and I understand why hes stressed over something that seems minimal to others And people are mean about him too, hes not a bad person he's just got PTSD and he doesn't know how to handle it. I feel bad for him when the community is mean to him over that cutscene.

and these are fictional characters it makes me scared how they would treat a real human being with similar issues, like me. I joke about if you hate these characters you should hate me too but like, it really pisses me off how this community treats mental illnesses And being somebody with these issues i really just want to spread awareness on how i personally feel when people say horrible things about these clearly mentally ill characters that have issues that real people have

Mental illness isn't black and white y'know, and if you think it is i think you might wanna get your eyes checked because you might just be completely colorblind, or blind in general. the actual mental toll it puts on real people to be represented by characters who's mental illnesses are portrayed very realistically only to be treated poorly by uneducated fans of the series/game/movie/ etc. It's very heartbreaking to me personally..

I just want fans of Stardew to be more mindful of characters like shane and Kent because there are real people like them that have the same issues as them. You don't have to like them just understand that real people have been through the same things they have and be respectful of that. i mean I don't like Harvey but I am respectful of people with anxiety, I have anxiety too. I think everyone does at this point.. but i would never undermine his anxiety or say he's a horrible person Because he's anxious that's a disgusting thing to imply and it should be the same way with characters like shane and Kent but it's not that way

The double standard with shane and hailey is an argument that may just involve sexism but that's an entirely different argument that i don't wanna get into rn, but just know, you don't necessarily have to be a nice person to be a good person, and vise versa.

Tldr: you guys need to stop saying Shane and kent are bad people for having mental illnesses, it's really gross and insulting to those with mental illnesses

[chaifootsteps]

if we can take a single positive thing from hb, I hope it's the idea that crying and being touch with one's emotions doesn't stop that person from being abusive

Lundy Bancroft's book has a whole segment on this called Mr Sensitive and boy are a lot of the pointers applicable here

1. You seem to be hurting his feelings constantly, though you aren’t sure why, and he expects your attention to be focused endlessly on his emotional injuries. If you are in a bad mood one day and say something unfair or insensitive, it won’t be enough for you to give him a sincere apology and accept responsibility. He’ll go on and on about it, expecting you to grovel as if you had treated him with profound cruelty. 2. When your feelings are hurt, on the other hand, he will insist on brushing over it quickly. 3. With the passing of time, he increasingly casts the blame on to you for anything he is dissatisfied with in his own life; your burden of guilt keeps growing. 4. He starts to exhibit a mean side that no one else ever sees and may even become threatening or intimidating.

I think that's what bothers me so much about the last episode: that fans saw Stolas act like what Blitzo rightfully called him out on was a profound injury entitling him to do the cold shoulder routine like a teenager then suck about it until Blitzo apologized, then act like the apology wasn't enough because what he really wanted was for Blitzo to immediately devote his all his energy into attending to Stolas' emotional needs...and the takeaway even for some of the people who thought Stolas was wrong was 'it's fine for this episode to frame Blitzo like he's the scum of the Earth for hurting Stolas' feelings even though everything he said was true, because Stolas will have his eureka moment later'

And to that I can only say, 'so what?' It's not going to matter if against all odds and patterns from Viv that Stolas realizes he was wrong later.

He's already guilt tripped and tantrumed his way to an apology he wasn't owed that Blitzo shouldn't have had to give him. Twice! if you count Ozzie's

How are we being expected to ship them at this point if Stolas is already establishing a very clear pattern about whose needs and emotions matter in this relationship before they've even started dating?

Definitely need to slip a copy of that under this fandom's collective doors. At this point, even if we only take season 2 into account and ignore everything about season 1, Stolas is sending up more red flags than Soviet Moscow.

[monosanimegenericzone]

Hunter x Hunter: Conspiracy theory

this is a big leap and a reach and feeds my narrative satisfaction.

and it involves HEAVY troupe copium and apologist things of that nature.

you've been warned. proceed with a grain of salt.

(also gonna. put it under a break bcs this got long as hell XD)

I think the troupe was not solely responsible for the kurtan massacre and are on the Black Whale 1 to show the one responsible that they aren't going to continue to protect his clean record.

allow me to explain, starting with yorknew.

so i have had this theory knocking around in my head that the yorknew auction was meant to be a sort of finale or huge thing. because that was a big deal right, that's the world mafia they're pissing off.

AND it was weird bcs chrollo wanted everything at the auction. the troupe calls him out on that. and since we all know chrollo is a theatrical bastard, there is a meaning behind everything so this is no different.

so why does he want to declare war on the world mafia.

here's what we know.

meteor city was selling their own people to the mafia for a guarantee of safety from the black market. we don't know if these people went willingly or not but it was why the mafia didn't want to continue to pursue the troupe. the connection between meteor city and the world mafia was very important.

we know a few things changed between the troupe flashback and present day.

a) the troupe gained a reputation. until yorknew, apparently no one knew they were from meteor city.

b) the elders learned how to use nen. at the very least, we know of one counteractive nen ability that was used to protect the city's citizens from unfair indictment. there were probably more but we dont know for sure.

c) the mafia had gotten really comfortable with their connection with meteor city, now relying more on the city than the city relied on it.

chrollo was the one who most likely set up this relationship. it was his promise to set up the city as a hub for criminals so that he could personally witness and sift through the absolute scum of the earth to find sarasa's killers.

so based on all of this:

Yorknew City was meant to be the start of chrollo's grand finale to tear down the criminal infrastructure in meteor city.

but, things happened. and he got his ass beat.

POINT IS: Chrollo organizes his attacks with purpose.

.... SO WHY THE FUCK IS THIS DUMBASS TRYING TO ATTACK THE KAKIN FUCKING EMPIRE.

"attack" being an exaggeration but cmon. stealing from is the same thing as coming over and spitting in their food.

here's where the conspiracy theory comes in.

what if the kurta massacre wasn't exclusively done the troupe.

yes this is the part with the troupe apologist bullshit but hear me out. i have something interesting to share.

so at this point we know the troupe doesn't do petty theft anymore. this isn't just a "hey the kakin empire is rich. lets rob them :D" job. chrollo on a mission.

i saw this on twitter and a single post led down this downward spiral. (images are linked to the post)

so these pages stood out to me. the troupe never starts fights? that sounds stupid. sound goofy even.

but it's true.

or, phrased correctly, the troupe doesn't start fights they don't know how to finish. since chrollo is the head, they all function as his limbs, meaning they share his mentality when approaching combat: he will not take fights he can't guarantee he will win.

that being said, as shown in the pages above, they will ALWAYS pick up the gauntlet. if someone picks a fight with THEM, the entire gang will spin the block. aint no one surviving.

in the succession war arc, they were framed for the murder of a char-r member because luini was a toxic fan.

so here's the hypothetical: what if the troupe was framed for the kurta massacre?

we know their hands aren't clean. uvo, chrollo, phinks and pakunoda all recall the killing, so that's evidence they were there for it.

here's some things I don't understand about the event though.

a) the kurta were supposedly super well hidden, to the point that when kurapika was shown in vol 0/the phantom rouge, there were tribe traditions that forbade anyone that couldn't hide their eyes properly from going outside of the village. this was like. i think 1 year or so before the massacre.

b) when exactly did the eyes become relevant to body part collection? if it is believed that the troupe attacked the clan for the money that the eyes sell for, that means there must have been some already on the market. we dont get confirmation of this

c) how was a process for preserving magic eyes conceived at this time? im flabbergasted.

leaning mostly on point b, the kurta clan must have had previous victims of their scarlet eyed members getting got. which leads to point a, heightened protection of the kurtans with scarlet eyes.

but, as is anything in the hxh world, if there is something rare, there will always be a market for it.

now keep in mind what i said before: the troupe never picks up fights unless they know they can win and unless there's an ulterior motive. money doesn't matter to them, neither does infamy. at this point they're grade A bounties so yeah, neither of those things mean jack shit.

so i raise the idea that was in that twitter post: what if someone framed the spiders for the massacre and they took it in stride. that's free street cred, of course they claim ownership.

but let's go back and analyze, because who in their right mind would pick these randoms.

the kakin empire would. or someone associated with a high seat of power that can't afford to be tainted with something like genocide.

let's look at fourth prince tserreidnich.

im not saying he specifically pointed the finger at the spiders, but he was most likely the benefactor that wanted the scarlet eyes in the first place. he would stop at no means and he lets his people handle the dirty work.

he even has a damn head that is probably also kurtan.

so let's go out on a limb and say that tserreidnich ordered a party of mercenaries to track down the kurta clan so he could expand his collection. but, obviously, the group can't take the blame, so they pin it on the troupe or claim to be the troupe.

and because the troupe was wronged all of those years ago, chrollo is now aiming a full frontal assault against the kakin empire. hisoka is just a side quest. chrollo *remembers* how he was wronged.

so to recap. here's how the theory says the story goes.

the phantom troupe is in lukso province for whatever reason. probably to target the large movement of body part collectors to the region or something completely unrelated.

the 4th prince's team moves into the kurta village and starts taking the eyes. the kurtans successfully fight back and demand to know who they are. they answer, "we're the spiders"

and the kurtans, now hell bent on revenge for their fallen, seek out the troupe and pick a fight. and the troupe being the troupe, pick up the gauntlet no questions asked.

(alt. the kurtans seek out a powerful ally in the troupe to fight back against what we assume are trained human hunters and when they fail, beg to be killed as well)

chrollo at the time doesn't question the interaction. it was a gang of violent vagabonds trying to right a wrong that the troupe didn't even participate in.

it bothers him, just a little bit, that someone would try to frame the troupe for an atrocity that they didn't do. sure, it fit their narrative and added to their reputation, but it bothers him that someone out there had used their name.

but come yorknew, he's confronted with a surviving kurta. and the problem resurfaces.

he has his hands full trying to reroute the course of the yorknew heist and has to cut a lot of his plans short. he still completed his goal and started the process of severing ties between the mafia and meteor city.

but now the kurta are a problem in his life again and once he gets that damn chain out of his chest, he has two things to focus on:

a) getting away from hisoka to gather abilities

b) figuring out how to deal with kurapika

he remembers the kurta and is totally okay with shouldering the blame for their elimination. but that means that he's clearing the name of someone else for free.

and he doesn't do shit for free.

since he doesn't have to worry about meteor city immediately (the 10 dons are dead and the world mafia is in shambles), he can move onto bigger fish.

right now, his goal is to figure out the truth behind the kurtan massacre. and his search leads him to 4th prince tserriednich. a man in possession of eyes that the troupe didn't sell and way more than the 36 total that *should* be on the market.

THAT is why chrollo is picking a fight with the kakin empire. THAT is why he is on the black whale one. he's here to settle a 7 year old score, and if he can take hisoka down at the same time? good for him.

anyway thats my crazy conspiracy theory. there are some wrinkles in here that may be defied by canon reveals later in the story.

but damn would this make sense for why chrollo is on that damn boat. bcs i know he isn't stupid enough to send the ENTIRE TROUPE on a suicide mission just for hisoka.

so unless we get a reveal of something else substantial, this is what i'm working with.

[sgiandubh]

Five minutes of Instagram fame

The Brazilian fan is back with more attention-grabbing content, one week after she had thousands of eyes on her London shenanigans. Which I am not going to discuss, simply because I do believe there is no need to give the anecdote more space than it deserves. Enough is enough, and the apparent collective loss of all sense of measure is a sure sign that pause is needed, in that department.

What I am going to discuss, however, is the chutzpah of a 23 year old Nobody, who just wishes to keep those five minutes of fame rolling on and on and on.

Yesterday, she felt compelled to publish another batch of Instagram stories, in which she delivers her Toxic Shipping 101 lecture:

In the process, she basically just rephrases the main Anti Bible arguments, calls thousands of people 'insane', quotes two influential shipper blogs (slàinte mhath, @bat-cat-reader!) that didn't even come close to what I wrote about her, brings on board her mother and grandmother just to explain how upset she was about 'older American women picking up on her'. And ends with a rather pathetic plea for all of us, shippers, to 'seek immediate medical attention'. Same unnerving sotaque Paulista (São Paulo accent), with a posh and very fake tinge of British English. Same incoherent, amateur and immature discourse, endlessly seeking to bring attention to herself, mildly trying to victimize herself. Blah, blah.

I would have given her grace, were it not for this particular argument, in response to a X user asking a rather uncomfortable question, as she definitely has the constitutional right to do:

'OH God, not her again 23 yr old Brazilian trying to be a reporter in London, complete fail. but in BIG OL LONDON, 'JUST HAPPENED' TO Spot Sam, how dumb do you think we all are?'

Answer is the real dumb part of the story, if you ask me, especially coming from a very young woman: 'Forbidden to be a journalist and meet a celebrity in the street. Forbidden to go for a walk as a journalist, paging all my colleagues, ok? I had no clue I could be as scheming as they say I am.'

Ok, buttercup: it is my honest understanding that you want to be taken seriously and treated as a professional, right? Did I miss something, here?

Right. As the daughter of a journalist and a former Government expert in media policies (specifically dealing with media content broadcasting), I am going to do exactly this and honestly ask you, Mrs. Silva:

Do you consider, in all good faith, that you acted like a professional journalist, in this very circumstance?

Do you consider to have kept your impartiality and have you at least checked all the relevant facts and POVs, before slandering all those people on your social media account? Or did you content yourself to report the hearsay shared with you by other bloggers, and just conveniently quoted four random bloggers and commenters?

Have you the slightest idea that one of the commenters who reached out to you on Instagram, questioning your version of the facts, is not even a shipper (and actually, very violently far from being one)?

During the week separating your first post and this reaction to people's feedback, have you or have you not respected your due diligence obligation to contact and engage with the people you so easily treat as a bit less than the scum of the Earth?

Did you or did you not ask for permission to quote their published content on your social media account, especially in a polemic context?

Unlike you, I have diligently perused both your website and your Linked In account. Maybe it is time to tell all those people you have insulted the truth about who you are, professionally, at this very moment:

Marketing student, 3rd semester.

Let me count: 3 internships (correct me if I am wrong), in various junior positions for 1 local media outlet, 1 international corporation and 1 website, 4 different jobs - or should I say 'stints' (3 with your current employer, 1 as a freelancer for a local media outlet).

Still learning. There is absolutely nothing bad about it. But you have still a LONG way to go until you could pretend to be a real voice. And there is nothing in what you posted that could grab my professional attention and make me hire you. Quite the contrary and, believe it or not, I am awfully sorry to say so.

My three free and totally unsolicited pieces of advice:

Always check your facts, always get in touch with the people you plan to write about. In fact, your anger and ego got the best of your professional self and you lost a great opportunity for a paper you could have even titled ' Viagem na Shipperlândia' (A Trip to Shipperland). I would have read that. But you haven't. You preferred to act just like all the other 23 year old girls and make a belly-button story about yourself.

Never bring your family forward in questionable contexts. You expose people who have nothing to do with the irrelevant insanity of a fandom war, to which you contributed your own, perhaps involuntary, dose of chaos and unnecessary drama.

Never lie on your Linked In resume. Potential employers might and will read it. Never write things like:

.. when you also fail to accurately describe your former job position, denoting poor spelling:

Especially when words are your craft, bread and butter. The devil is always in the details:

As I mentioned in a previous post, you could have been my daughter. I have been that 23 year old girl myself, desperate to list every single internship and tempted to inflate language proficiency, in the hope it would land me the job of my dreams. And I have learned the hard way that being a true professional is cancelling your ego.

You'll learn. Until then, stop bitching on things you have no idea about and act like an adult, not an attention hungry teenager. This comes from a place of tough love: sometimes, the most effective life lessons are given by complete strangers.

[ceesimz]

This is gut-wrenching to see. I grew up a Man United fan, it was in my blood, my whole family are Manchester United fans and there was nothing I loved more than watching them play growing up because of what they meant to my family.

And then... the last few years happened. I've never felt more disconnected from that team then I do now, I don't class myself as a Manchester United fan anymore. Because honestly what is there to like? There's nothing! I back the girls, and I always will, but I have zero connection with the club because how can I support a system that has no humanity?

First, it was the treatment of Greenwood and how they literally threw the women under the bus by saying "We asked the women of our club whether they'd like him to stay a part of the team or not." (paraphrasing) How the hell can you, firstly, use that as a decision-making strategy, and secondly openly admit it to the public and leave the women subject to hate from the scum of the earth online? And things only got worse from here. The men's team being called 'the first team', cancelling the celebration dinner after the women won their first ever competitive trophy, how the women are always an 'afterthought', and so much more that is so infuriating to witness.

The last decade, even, has been a downward slope I've been ashamed to see. I don't recognise this club, and I know a lot of female fans don't either because of the treatment from the owners and other senior staff. Again, I fully support the girls and it's not their fault they play for such a bullshit team, but I don't think I could ever consider myself a Man United fan again. Not in these circumstances. I've been a neutral for the last few years and I tell you, football is a lot less stressful that way😅

I hope there's some heavy protests within the women's team and that some of the players realise they deserve the world, not this BS. Nobody can hate them for leaving and I hope no one does, but that's as rare as winning the lottery. They deserve so so much better, this shouldn't be their fight. As always, one step forward and a hundred steps back.

[lo-toh-takes]

Lily unfortunately loves virtue-signaling: she can never just like or dislike something, she straight up has to make it into some weird competition where she makes up all the rules so that way she's the only one who comes out looking like the most morally upstanding person in the room: she hates Hunter, therefore anybody who likes him is just a racist who didn't grow out of their bad boy loving phase. She hates Luz's character development in the later seasons, therefore anybody who likes it is just a joyless emo who is into torture porn. She ignores Gus completely, so anybody who doesn't is just infantilizing him.

She never actually provides any evidence that Hunter fans, Luz fans, or Gus fans are any of those horrible things either, probably because in Lily's mind nobody can like the things she dislikes without also being the scum of the earth, therefore she doesn't need to show any proof.

It boils down to a consistent issue in Lily's videos, that being her complete inability to handle other people's opinions. Her whole racism narrative is based on nothing but pure lies that she just made up (which is ironic since she accuses Hunter fans of making shit up to justify calling him a good character).

She’s doing this so she can have an excuse to bitch about people with different opinions than her while using racism as a way to frame herself as being “progressive”. Hunter isn’t the only instance of this; she throws the same shit to Luz fans as well with her narrative that Luz’s depression arc was only well received because people like seeing a 14 year old girl suffer, which is an special kind of insulting when the real reason why people liked the arc was not only because it was well written, but also because there are people who see themselves in Luz and related to her self loathing.

So Lily claiming that an arc that resonated with a lot of people was only liked because of a torture fetish is disgusting. She’s demonizing the fandom for liking things she doesn’t, which is not a good form of critique.

[twopoppies]

I'm sending this to you because I think there's less of a chance of me being eaten alive but I'm a little confused with Louis' reaction. He has every right to set boundaries but I wish he would communicate that before it escalates and then he just starts flipping people off and looking at them like they're trash. I don't care what anyone says he and the fans (even on tumblr) were 100% encouraging the ripping of his clothes. Now I hated it but it was clear him and his team thought it was funny - this was clear with them posting the ripped tanks on social media. Louis is completely in his right to decide he doesn't like it anymore but I don't understand why he can't just use his words. Now all of a sudden the fans at barricade are being treated like shit and called out when they're only doing what the fans have been doing this whole time and people online have been amping up. Tbh I'm mostly annoyed at the reaction on tumblr when all I've been seeing are comments about the tanks not surviving barricade when he comes out on stage. Now they're outraged?? Like you were all for it when it looked like Louis was having fun and now fans are the scum of the earth for pissing off Louis?

Hi, sweetheart. I think there have always been two camps when it comes to barricade. There were those who loved it and thought Louis was enjoying it and thought it was sexy when his shirts were ripped. And others who felt it gave off a distinctly out of control vibe that was really triggering for some people. But those of us who didn’t like it were accused of being party poopers. 🙄

Regardless of what we personally felt, Louis definitely looked like he was enjoying it, even when his shirts were getting ripped. He even spoke about it in a joking way.

The problem is, as with everything in this fandom, you give an inch and pretty soon someone is going to up the ante and try to take a mile.

Clearly it seems he’s no longer enjoying it. But it’s something that he’s not communicating well to his fans. I know some people are saying it’s stalkers at the front row and they don’t care, others think it could be over-zealous fans who don’t know that he’s asked people to stop ripping his clothes, but whatever it is, he’s the only one who can make people stop. And he can do that with a simple statement during the show before he goes down there.

The shame of it is, it’s been a part of his show that was really special for fans (and Louis). Hopefully he can get it back under control so he doesn’t have to stop doing it.

[simslegacy5083]

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/19/2024) Episode: Market Mayhem

Before Luigi had a chance to sit down and start overanalyzing his SimTube trends he got an unexpected phone call.

It seemed Grandpa Steven’s spirit had popped into the world of the living for a visit and wanted to see his family at the Flea Market. Since his son had less opportunity to visit with his ancestors than Luigi had growing up at the homestead, he quickly agreed.

“We’ll be right there.” he said, hanging up and turning to his wife. “We have to go see my grandpa… I think you’ll like him; he was an author.”

“Steven Lothario?” Noemi asked, “I’ve enjoyed a few of his books. As I recall he was a recluse who preferred the company of his llama to throngs of adoring fans; I think we’ll get along just fine.” Luigi wasn’t sure he’d characterize his grandfather as a recluse, but he wasn’t going to contradict her on that perceived similarity.

Arriving at the market Luigi quickly said hi to the ghost who Noemi recognized from his book jackets before introducing her and Skye “It’s a pleasure to meet you” Steven told her, then turned to his great-grandson “Well hello Skye! Just like your shirt, hmm. Is that your favorite color?”

Noemi cringed inwardly at the crowd of people gathered at the market across the way, but she didn’t get a chance to dwell on it. Suddenly someone called out “I can’t believe it! It’s the Wedding Dancers!” Luigi headed over to say hello while Noemi waved shyly.

Focused on the stranger, neither parent saw Skye panic as his grandfather went to give him a hug, but they heard Steven yelp as their son kicked him.

Luigi didn’t break away from taking a selfie with the fan, judging that he could deal with the latest hijinks of his tiny terror afterward.

Noemi jumped in right away but was distracted from the actual sources of the commotion when she spotted a paparazzo eagerly snapping photos inches from the angry toddler and the spirit rubbing his smarting shin, with her seemingly uncaring husband directly in the background.

She’d heard Luigi complain about his public image often enough to know that this wouldn’t be a good look, so she stepped directly between him and the camera as she apologized to the ancestral spirit. “I’m so sorry, he’s been having some issues dealing with his feelings lately.”

Steven nodded, rubbing his leg “I had two of my own, I know how it is. He’s stronger than he looks!”  He smiled fondly at the pouting baby, whose mother had turned her back to the photographer as she scooped him up to scold him for his bad behavior.

Luigi finished with the fan and headed back their way. Putting Skye down, Noemi turned to him and explained what had happened.

Before he could say anything Steven piped up “Paparazzi!? Oh no. I’d hate to have a picture like that get into the paper.” Luigi knew his grandfather had always been shy about public attention, rarely taking interviews, preferring to let his work speak for itself. Even Luigi wasn’t thrilled about this interaction. As much as he loved the spotlight, he had a strong desire to control how his image and reputation were presented in the media.

“They’re the scum of the earth!” he agreed. “Why don’t all of you go into the gaming center, get out of the open? I’ll see if I can talk her into using the least unflattering images.”

Noemi gave him a worried look but was feeling too overwhelmed just then to argue. “Please don’t do anything rash” she pleaded as she left.

“Come on little man” Steven told Skye as they headed inside “We’ll find a table and I can show you the book I wrote for your daddy when he was just a little bit younger than you are now.”

Luigi spotted his target standing a few steps away, reviewing the footage on her camera. Just seeing the look of satisfaction on her face made his temperature rise, but he did his best to control his anger as he headed over to have a little chat with the unwanted intruder into his family reunion.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[queenvhagar]

Is it just me or does anyone ever think that TB fans and most T4rg stans refuse to see that characters can be grey. They only want good and evil and sadly they think that they are stanning the good ones? Idk but it seems as though the characters they like can never do wrong and they believe that it is for the greater cause or something

It's this weird thing of virtue signaling that's been going on with media lately. Like being a fan of or supporting a morally right or good character somehow says something about who someone is as a person in real life and the opposite being true for those supporting morally gray or wrong characters.

In this, you can have people supporting Rhaenyra and her side who can feel like they're actually good people and true feminists specifically for doing so while at the same calling Alicent a cunt unironically and arguing she is the scum of the earth for literally trying to survive.

And then they can look at Team Green or Aegon stans and accuse them of being real life advocates and supporters of the harmful things those characters do, with fans and actors alike being accused of being rape apologists and condoning sexual assault and the like and therefore being evil, bad people in real life.

These fans fail to see the difference between fiction and real life in that the two are not directly correlated and there is truly no meaning behind supporting certain characters (and it certainly doesn't say anything about someone's actual character).

They also have a hard time breaking away from black and white thinking, because then they would have to admit that people are not just all good or all evil and they might have to reckon with the fact that everyone has good and bad qualities. They would prefer to view themselves as all good, just as they view characters they want to root for as all good.

Unfortunately I feel like a lot of these fans are also ones who believe that fiction should not portray bad things like murder or assault because it somehow endorses that these things happens, instead of fiction actually just being a way to explore that these real things happen in life and look to tell stories about how these real things affect real people.

It's a loss for media literacy for sure and a sign that people are not willing to think deeply or critically about what they see in fiction and how it actually relates to real life.

[little-elf-wanders]

I'm also just going to preface that I rant about Solas a lot and I'm highly critical of him because he's apparently a character with a lot of power in how the rest of Thedas will survive or die. This doesn't mean I can't accept being wrong if I am, if he has a genuinely good plan he hasn't bothered to explain to anyone yet, I'll listen but so far... I'm not collecting breadcrumbs and calling it a cake.

I don't mean any of my posts to attack what you love, if you're a Solas lover/apologist, that's completely fine with me, I actually read and enjoy some of your takes about him. And you're all wildly talented. His character just rubs me the wrong way enough times that I just can't justify things away. That doesn't mean I entirely hate him. There are things I do enjoy about him, and that any character can illicit strong emotion in people isn't a bad thing to have. I'm truly hoping there's some secret I'm not in on, but I'm not hinging it all on being attracted to him, either. (I'm ace as fuck, which might be why I haven't been swept up in loving him. Because I know some - please read not all, majority of you have been very understanding -will defend him to the death simply because they love the romance. Or maybe they're hopeful and trying to find evidence to back it up. I just don't view him through rose tinted glasses and there's issues, he's a flawed character - none of this is a bad thing, it creates narrative, it's just the approach some fans take to it can be exhausting, on both sides.)

If it's been a big misunderstanding of Solas in general in Veilguard, I'll also be willing to accept that provided they give us more than 'trust me'. But as of now he's still a dick that isn't one all the time. And if he's an actual god, that explains why he's a dick. Though I believe it was said they weren't gods, their powers just came close. Which just means he's a very strong magister and thus, still a dick. A slightly less dicky version of the others but. STILL. There is substantial amounts to be critical about. And I will be.

This is just a PSA to say if you don't like me ranting about him, I'll make sure to have solas critical in the tags so you can blacklist it if seeing criticism of him upsets you, he's fictional at the end of the day so my rants don't mean I want to tear away your joy, just vent my own grievances in my own space. My intention isn't to upset anyone who loves his character. I have empathy for his character, it just... y'know. There's parts I wish could have been handled differently. Especially how we spoke to him because it was all, in my opinion, just ego stroking him. Which just isn't compelling to me nor what romance should be. (Though he was a late add to the romance roster so some things can't be helped.)

I know how serious people take this, which is the only reason I'm saying this now, and I'm only making this post just to make sure people understand criticism isn't hate or shitting on what you love - at least it's not intentional on my end. Because I have seen some feel like it's a personal attack. I'm saying it isn't for this blog. Love him to your hearts content, you could be right in the end. But you could also be wrong. My take is, regardless of what side you're on, you still cared enough to put in energy which isn't a wasted game or character, and it's enjoyable to see all the passion. But please also understand that being critical doesn't = scum of the earth wanting to kill your enthusiasm. And the fandom sometimes need to learn how to separate certain feelings when discussing subjects. I won't judge you for loving Solas or any other romance or character. But I will have my views of said fictional characters.

I'll make an active effort to be aware of how the criticism comes out. (This is just in case I have unintentionally upset anyone who's peeked in and thought I'm the worst because of it.) Fandom culture is just scary and my anxiety has been acting up because I know how loved of a character he is. Maybe this is a dumb post to make but. Can't be too careful. But also if you do want to discuss things, I'm always open to chat about it!

[nikkiruncks]

So, I'm gonna be honest about a few things regarding TVD, because a lot of the things I've seen recently are just very confusing and weird to me. One of the main things is the amount of vitriol Caroline has been receiving as of late. It's very clear that the hatred and misogyny towards Caroline is very much rooted in sexism and misogyny. You can try to spin it and try to tell me different all you want, but I see right through the BS. 

Caroline may have had her flaws and faults, but she was nowhere near as bad and horrible and toxic as you and everyone else have made her out to be. I mean, my goodness, you make it sound like she was a terrorist or something, or like if she was just the absolute scum of the earth. So what if Caroline did have fans and defenders back in season one? That's okay and not a bad thing at all. 

I mean, it wasn't an issue for murderous vampires, abusers, and rapists to have fans and supporters defending and justifying their horrible and disgusting actions, but god forbid people could actually identity and relate to a teenage girl, who was simply flawed and confused and actually had growth and development, unlike even Elena herself. 

And comparing Caroline to female characters from different shows doesn't really make for a valid argument either. A lot of the things you say about Caroline and accuse her of being are actually all the things Elena was. Elena was by far the biggest and most self-centered, selfish bitch in the entire show. All the hate she received from fans was very well-deserved and justified, and you won't convince me otherwise, so don't even bother defending that bitch to me. 

Elena dating and sleeping with a rapist/abuser is not even remotely the same thing as Caroline sleeping with Klaus, where at least there it was consensual and Caroline did it on her own free will. And I don't even ship Klaroline, but even I can tell the difference. And if Elena had told Caroline that she needs to get over it and accept it, that would've only made Elena an even bigger cunt and piece of shit than she had already beyond proven herself to be. Disliking Caroline doesn't make what Damon did to her null and void or in any way means that she deserved it and had to get over it.

So, overall, to me, it just comes off like you're just talking out of your asses and making shit up as you go along and making stupid excuses to hate Caroline for reasons that don't exist. Which once again, is all just sexism and misogyny from your end. And you call out Caroline for slut shaming other female characters (which I will say is probably the only thing I didn't agree with and disliked about her character), but you and everyone else in the fanbase has no issue being sexist and misogynistic and slut shaming Caroline or the other girls on the show. Hypocrisy at its finest.

Oh god you Caroline stans are exhausting 😩

1. No one ever called her "toxic" or implied she’s a terrorist. Most of us just call her out on her hypocrisy and her actions. Just because she’s a fan favorite or whatever, doesn’t absolve her of criticism. Y'know the kind that you guys love to give to Elena and Bonnie, but you can’t take valid criticisms about your fave.

2. I don’t have issue with people defending Caroline in season 1. At least when her horrible behavior towards Elena and Bonnie wasn’t justified, and no one who talking about oh so mean they are for excluding her even though Caroline did it to herself by not listening and making snarky comments and in general being an insensitive asshole.

3. Funny how you bring up Elena and Damon not being free will, but also call her a "cunt". And I’ve literally said that if the roles were reversed and she told Caroline to get over her fucking her rapist and get out of her life, people would be saying that Elena should’ve died on wickery bridge. But Caroline is somehow a #girlboss when she does it. Fuck off.

And also the fact that Caroline had the choice and still chose to sleep with Klaus makes her worse than Elena. Because Elena was literally sired and had no free will when it happened. Caroline chose to fuck Klaus, and giggle and brag about it to Kat!Elena.

4. If you talk to me about Caroline’s “growth” one more time, I’ll—

5. It’s also hilarious how you talk about sexism and misogyny, yet call Elena a “bitch”. Also “whiny cry baby”?? Lmao because she cried over actual trauma, but Caroline making a big fuss over a prom dress is funny, huh?

6. As far as I know, nobody has been slut shaming Caroline. If you’re talking about me saying that almost every guy sans Jeremy and Jamie had some sort of “link” to her, is that not true? Hell, she was engaged to Alaric in the later seasons.

You clearly love Caroline and nothing wrong with that, but don’t try to force it on people who don’t kiss her ass and always justify when she did something wrong.

[royallogana]

Hope for the Future

Fandom: Lucifer (Netflix)

Main characters: Michael Demiurgos, Lucifer Morningstar and Irene Rose

Mention characters: Chole, Daniel, Ella, Trixie

Relationship(s): Michael/Lucifer(hinted), Michael/Irene(hinted)

TW: Sickness, Male Pregnancy, weird angel anatomy, Oc Insert( you can read this as a name reader also), mentions of miscarriage, medical inaccuracies .

Continue to read under the cut.

Plot/promot: When Michael arrived, he intended to take over Lucifer's life but he sees how the precinct treats his twin aside from Daniel, Ella and Trixie.

(Michael heard horrible things like Lucifer's a cheater, that he's a cruel person and how he treated Chloe to the point that she left for Rome because of the treatment and how he didn't have feelings for when Daniel got shot).

So the Angel of Fear went to LUX and saw a heartbreaking scene. He sees his heavily pregnant twin sleeping in a pitiful nest (in this angels need clothing or items with their family's scent on it in order to help with the pregnancy but because no one gave Lucifer anything, he had actually gotten sick from how small the nest was). So he decided he was going to make sure that his twin gets everything and everybody will rue the day they treated his twin horribly.

Note: This is my au of the show and inspired loosely by a fan-fic on AO3 "Emerging from the shadows" by Auroralumea. This is a Oc Insert but you can read it as x reader. This is my first fic on here and my first in a while. Irene name is female based but she is genderfluid(like the author) and uses all pronouns. THIS HAS HINTED TWINEST SO NOT YOUR THING THEN PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ANY HATE COMMENTS.

I heard that Lucifer was the Daniel got shot. We should glad that he is alive, that is heartless like who he named after.

Didn't he not cheat on Chile after trying to get her for how many years, 6-7 years. Wait, is he not pregnant. He says he doesn't lie and then lies about being trans. Why you vex about lying about being trans, never heard of insecurity fool.

Mumbles of agreement ran through the ball pit. Irene was shocked when she heard these rumours about Lucifer. When she came to work here to help Michael get information on how to live as his twin, she was not expecting to hear nearly everyone to talk absolutely hell about Lucifer. She knew Michael hated Lucifer for centuries but this put his hate (and hers) on a whole different level. Irene texted Michael every thing she heard expect Lucifer being pregnant.

Michael as pissed as he was, he decided to visit his brother even if he was killed or chased out of the loft. Hearing how these pest and scum of the earth (expect that small child, the little Latina and the small child father and of course his little lover friend) treated and scorned his brother even though he was nice to them.

'Disgusting wreck of the earth, why did father even created them. Well, there is Irene he's tolerable. Ah LUX so befitting-'

Michael stood in and horror on the balcony at the sight the of his twin. Lucifer was heavily pregnant, his beautiful porcelain skin marked in dark handprints. The sculpture body made with delicate time and effort bruised with handprints and to top it off his nest (or the pitiful excuse of it) looked it was from hell it self. Michael coming out of his stupor ran to pick Lucifer only to feel burning up, he placed Lucifer on the couch and called Irene.

Lucifer woke up to voices mumbling in his living room, look around he was surrounded clothes of person he never knew and a scent he thought he would never smell again. 'Wait, people who the hell and who put in this nest?' Lucifer sat back thinking.

"Hello who is there? Tell me who you are and why you are here?" Lucifer asked clutching his belly protectively.

"Mikeal? Is that you? It really is." Lucifer started to cry, not care about the death threat and blamed on his pregnancy hormones trying to hug his brother. Michael handed the cake to the silver haired kitsune then saying something in a foreign language.

"My full name is Rhiannon Elisheba but please call me Irene Rose, I am the queen and keeper of the Abyss the home of Purgatory. We know each other but never met." Irene said with a look that would make Maze's knifes jealous but Lucifer was stunned how did the kitsunes ended up in Purgatory.

"But you are kitsune how you are, i mean were in Purgatory? and how did you meet Mikeal, I mean Michael? How and why did you help me?" Lucifer questioned the pair.

"We would tell you later on how we met but to answer your question on why we help you, i may be a dick but i am not a monster. You were half dead on the floor heavily pregnant with the baby. By the way how long are you?" Michael said with a questioning tone because his twin looks like he is in the 2nd going 3rd trimester.

"Uh, 1st going to the 2nd trimester, I think? I have not left the penthouse in a while because...."

"You got scared of what people think. I understand what you mean, somewhat but need to get checked in case you have low blood pressure, low iron or something that could lead to a miscarriage. I am not trying to scare you but you need medicinal help because that is not healthy." Irene stated while handing Lucifer the cake. Lucifer took the cake and slowly ate it.

"Look, no. How am I going to check if turned up with someone who has the same face as me to a BLOODY HOSPITAL AND THEN THEY TURN ME AWAY, ABSOLUTELY NOT." Lucifer stated clearly swinging his hands in circular motion to belly.

"Look, I know I just met you for the first time in a while but I go with you and Michael go invisible. But I am not shape shifting..... Michael. And second of all, nobody is going to know who the baby father is because, one Michael is your twin and clearly not the baby father." Irene trying to calm down Lucifer while eyeing Michael.

".......Ok fine I'll go get ready-"

"Where in the heavens you think you're going? Not to go to the hospital with bruises right? The hospital will think I abused you with those handprints."

"Michael, no Mikeal how many times do you want me to say this, NOBODY GOING TO KNOW. ~sigh~ And we are taking him to the hospital now because you don't know if the child or children is ok."

"But Irene-"

"Not another word on this, I am calling my driver and you are helping your brother down and that final." With that Irene walked out of Lucifer's bedroom pulling out her phone and calling her driver to put them up.

"She knows how to shut you up huh"

"Samael, don't say a word"

At that Lucifer snickers and holds on to Michael while he picks him to meet Irene downstairs. A little while later Irene hears the private elevator open and sees Michael bridal carrying Lucifer. She shakes her head in disbelief at them, Michael comes down here to take over his life and not even a fortnight he backs on agreeing terms with the brother that destroyed his life (that is his words not Irene). Anyways the driver saved him when they pulled up.

"Why does this car look familiar?"

"It a custom Rolls-Royce Cullinan that why, and before you ask it not a police paycheck. A friend of mine family helps me runs my business, anyways Solas drive us to private hospital I attend please."

Lucifer looks up to Michael and whispers 'Sugar Mommy?' before being placed down in the backseat by him, then heads to front seat. Irene overhears it and looks cross at him with a questionable look on his face.

"Anyways.... Lucifer my private doctor agreed to check you up. Solas drive."

"So... May I ask a question?" Lucifer turns to Irene caressing his belly.

"Mhn"

"Why are you helping me even though I don't know you?"

"Lucifer look... I hate you for what you did to me but I am only doing this for Michael and I am not a monster that would harm a pregnant person."

"Unlike how some legends go"

"Excuse me, Frist of all any kitsume that hurts a pregnant person is strike dead on the spot. Second, yakos aren't even that wicked. It is our curse placed on my kind from your father. Anyways we are here, Solas park in the private parking and also wake up Michael if you think we are standing long."

Later, Lucifer and Irene are in the doctor's office to get the final report on how he was. The nurses guided him to the bed and laid him after taking his shoes off. The doctor came in with a simple smile.

"Honestly Mister Morningstar, I am quite shocked that the twins didn't drain your life source. The twins are in their six month but you need someone to stay with you until the twins are born because if you don't you know those marks on your neck that was the children energy. Anyways, you can go if you want or to stay if you want. Also Irene I need to speak to privately please."

When Lucifer goes to the car (with Solas help), Irene told her to get food ordered. After that, Irene followed the the doctor to the seat they began to speak.

"Doctor Lilith, why would you not tell him who you are?"

"Me and Nicholas made a promise to not tell him who I am but promise me that you will not hurt Lucifer for he has no memory of the killing of your parents because of the curse."

"....... I promise..... Auntie."

"Good now get going and tell Solas mother says hello."

After that Irene left.

"So are you going to tell your children that Thier father, the Almighty has fallen from Silver Selune..... Nicholas."

"The water has not reached the root to help the tree grow."

[putschki1969]

hey puts, the captain of kalafina fandom XD i came across this instagram post which i think its talking about backstage stuff about wakana circulating in 2-chan. this is the post https://www.instagram.com/p/Bvy3CuchT-D/ can you share your thoughts about it ? or maybe you can help us what are they actually talking about since we can only use google translate.

Hello there, anon!

Ugh, you are throwing me a curve-ball here, I did not expect to get a question like this. Already feeling exhausted just thinking about writing my reply T_T

That Instagram post is from spring 2019, a - what I consider to be - particularly dark period in the Kalafina fandom. Wakana was in the midst of preparing for her first grand-scale solo tour after her official solo debut and Space Craft finally put their act together by releasing an official statement regarding Kalafina's state of limbo. In an attempt to put an end to a lot of uncertainty/speculation and to create a clear distinction between Kalafina and Wakana's solo activities, they declared a definitive disbandment. As you can imagine, everyone and their mother had something to say about that. Even Yuki Kajiura, Hikaru and Keiko made statements in response. All of this caused a lot of backlash against Space Craft and particularly towards Wakana herself. The fact that Wakana was still with Space Craft and dared to not address the announcement of Kalafina's disbandment with a statement of her own made many so-called fans very angry and disappointed - totally unwarranted of course.

Suddenly, there was an influx of certain internet trolls who got a real kick out of blaming and villainising Wakana, they made her into the bad guy and came up with a bunch of wild theories that mainly served the purpose of dragging Wakana's name and image through the mud. Needless to say, none of those claims were in any way, shape or form substantiated but as is the case with all negative content on the internet, it drew quite a bit of attention and some people even started buying into that bullshit. The Instagram user you linked to in your ask is a textbook example of one such troll. At that time, a handful of sock puppet accounts were created to feed into the smear campaign against Wakana. Those accounts regularly left nasty comments under Wakana's Instagram posts, pretending to be devastated fans and referring to all sorts of horrible things that Wakana had allegedly done. Most of those posts and accounts got rightfully flagged and suspended but some apparently managed to stay around for a while. They tried to continue their toxic behaviour but once they realised that Wakana's loyal fans would not stand for such horrible defamation tactics, most of them just disappeared again.

As for the information supposedly circulating on 2chan, I honestly give little to no credence to anything that is being said on anonymous text-boards like 2chan or its successor 5chan. As much as the Japanese are known for being overly polite and reserved, they can be incredibly nasty when they are allowed to act anonymously. I reckon about 10% of users who frequently post on these types of text-boards are actually decent human beings. 60% of them are either mentally handicapped, bored out of their minds or simply frustrated with their lives. The remaining 30% are scum of the earth sociopaths as far as I am concerned.

In order to do some research for this post, I went through a few old threads about Wakana containing hundreds upon hundreds of messages. I literally felt my brain cells dying with every new message I read. No idea how others manage to subject themselves to this level of stupidity but I really struggle to tolerate it. Out of curiosity, I would have liked to find a "source" for the specific accusations in that Instagram post but alas, I wasn't able to. There's just no way I can go through everything, sorry. Also, I will not dignify any of these messages or that Instagram post with a proper translation.

Believe me when I say that there is no incriminating material on Wakana out there, these people have zero authentic evidence (photo or otherwise) of her being a "stuck-up bitch", of her "mistreating staff members", of her "bashing Hi/Kei" etc. It's all just a ton of made-up gossip and rubbish. Everyone, please do yourself a favour and just ignore content like this when you come across it. Knowing what those people have to say does not add any value to your life, quite the contrary, it will only poison your brain.

That's honestly all I have to say about this topic.

[akechi-if-he-slayed]

i heart tswift but personally i think it’d be SO funny if mattrey poked at her popularity a bit in the next season because witnessing the most dieheart swifties call for mattrey crucification and declaring south park fans as the scum of the earth would be very likely and very amusing. to me.

[mrchalamet-mrstyles]

It's frankly sad to see what's happening with Timmy and Kylie. And your latest anon who wants to leave the fandom because of what some people are saying about him now, just makes it all sadder. Timmy is dating a woman. Maybe she's vapid, maybe she's stupid, none of us know. But it's unbelievable how some people, be it his fans who are jealous, haters who hate just because, and "reporters" looking for clicks, are collectively losing their minds over a relationship that does not, in any way, shape or form, affect any of them. It's upsetting, ridiculous, stupid, deranged. Dissecting someone else's relationship looking for negative things is one of the saddest things I've ever seen. The truth of the facts is that Timmy and Kylie have been dating for months and we have seen them together a grand total of twice. TWICE. And they haven't spoken about their relationship ever. Where's the PR? Where's the fame hunger? There are celebrities who are being papped almost everyday. Actors who are attending events every other day. Actors who have 5,6,7 movies already announced. But Timmy is the fame hungry, PR guy? Even Kylie doesn't really get papped much, nowhere close to many other celebs. It's disheartening to see what's happening. I know coverage of celebrity life mostly sucks because every trade is looking for clicks and the average person loves to trash rich beautiful stars, but we're losing the plot here. The vile things that are being said about Timmy and Kylie are abhorrent. And some "journalists" are partecipating in this awful game. Maybe everyone should remember these are human beings. And no matter how much some people scream and complain and cry about PR and fame, these two people have mostly lived this relationship in a very private way. There have been way more photos of Zendaya and Tom Holland in the past 6 months, but somehow that's real love while Timmy and Kylie, with their two outings, are PR. I don't get it. I knew the Jenners/Kardashians were hated, but this is too much. I can't believe there are people that every single day wake up, get up and go online to trash them and everyone associated to them. Don't people have anything better to do with their lives? Don't they ever think about how hurtful they are? Sorry for the rant, but it's truly upsetting what's been happening. Why are we talking about this woman as if she is the scum of the earth? You don't like her? Fine, ok. But can we remember she is a mother and has two kids who one day soon will have to read some truly awful things about their mom? And can we remember she grew up in that family and that life is all she's ever known? Can we stop trashing her for the plastic surgery when she clearly did it because people have been making fun of her looks since she was a teenager? And why are people calling Timmy a fuck boy and a fame hungry actor when he is regularly out of the spotlight whenever he's not promoting something? Why is his being a college dropout a problem now? He's still well read, talented, smart and successful.

And mind you, this isn't even just about Timmy. There are other celebs that receive the same treatment just because they dare dating someone else in the spotlight. I think we could all use minding our business a little more. It's ok to express some discontent with some things we do not like, but I think people are forgetting human decency entirely.

🙌🙌