#can we also add slander as a ship name (joking)

[allthepandasintheworld]

just gonna post like 30 doodles today apparently anyways i wonder when ill finally draw them kissing properly

[derekmorganscrocs]

NED “NICK” NICKERSON APPRECIATION!

Mild Spoilers!

So I know we love Ace and I’ve posted a lot of Ace content, but let’s not throw Nick aside here. I mean, look at him:

my man is ADORABLE, but also HOT. And he’s got morals for days, he’s sweet and he CARES SO GENUINELY.

and he speaks French?! wowza <3

Mans couldn’t hurt a fly intentionally. He’s level headed most of the time, and he’s really frickin smart. He built a ghost scanner, like uh hello? Okay mr. engineer, that’s so cool. Protective bestie/boyfriend? I stan.

AND as @hoennislands just reminded me, he’s a bookworm too! And thanks to Tiffany Hudson, he’s a classic lover. As he should. Smart boy things!!

Also he wears wallet chains which I love. AND HES A MECHANIC, y’all sleeping on that. LIKE COME ON- ex-football star, mechanic, inventor apparently, smart, good-hearted, courageous dude. GUYS, LOOK AT HIM. ACKNOWLEDGE MY BABE-

Peep this post and the comment pls:

Caught this man in 4K- jokes of course but I found the comment amusing and thought I’d share.

His background: to be honest, I hope we get more backstory. Back in the pilot we hear him talk a little about an injury ruining his football career, and we know about why he was in jail, but we don’t know that much. I just want more. Clearly he left Florida because of his reputation, but why come to Horseshoe Bay? What happened to make him choose here of all places? And what was his life like before the accident?

Now we get into Nick and George, Fanson? Fanerson? First names don’t work for a ship, trust me on that. They’re adorable. I’ll admit it took me a second, but I love them together now. You can see how much they care for each other and it’s amazing. They both deserve a win. George got burned by guys in her past, and Nick is helping her open that part of herself up again. And Nick clearly struggled with not being enough in his romantic past, but George genuinely wants him, not to hookup with, but she loves him.

This one on the left here? Moment almost killed me. The way George jumped in to save her man, yes girl, get it. They’re the sweetest and I love. NO FANSON SLANDER ALLOWED!

I relate enough to George that I can put myself in her head. The Claw is her place. It’s the one place she feels safe and like she has purpose. It’s hers. And that’s getting taken away. So for Nick to jump in and save it? Hell, I would propose to that man right there. Marry me pls.

He’s a boyfriend and a half. Perfect. Mwah. RESPECTFUL KING. He didn’t get upset when George didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, and he was more than okay with stopping when she was uncomfortable. Bare minimum, but I appreciate it babe.

UGH AND IN 2x7 we find out he’s been having nightmares about George dying, like not to... uh I can’t think of a better way than saying “belittle” so: not to belittle his traumatization but that’s so sweet to me. It shows how much he truly cares. Despite the short time they’ve been together, he so very truly cares and I love him.

And in 2x8 the way he just knows something isn’t right with George, I ship them so much. They really both deserve a win, and I’m glad they seem to be getting one.

Anyway, I love Nick and I think a lot of people are hyper-focusing on other things. I’m not entirely an exception, I haven’t posted any Nick content, but I do love him!! I just wanna see more Nick appreciation pleaseeeee. And if you have any Nick fics anywhere tag me!

I haven’t watched 2x9 yet, but I will add more here once I do. I hope Nick and George pull through because as much as I love them, I’m worried with how quickly their relationship is progressing. And I definitely missed a few aspects of Nick, but he’s so awesome.

But please give Nick some love!!

I have now watched 2x9!! NICK IS SO SWEET, SO PROTECTIVE, AMAZING BOYFRIEND. Are you kidding? As much as I laughed, mr. detective finding the banana cream pie in Gil’s place and saying he’d do whatever it takes to save George? I love him. And when he talked Odette down off the cliff, “I love her.” I CRIED. He threatens to follow her off the cliff to eternally haunt her, and honestly, I love that. I think that him and George (Fanson for life I say) are an amazing ship, and I’ll be so upset if they break up.

Nick is awesome and under appreciated, please please please, let’s appreciate him more! We love Nick here.

[hotchley]

The Intro

Hi, I’m Sumayyah!

You’ve reached the Aaron Hotchner Is Not Cold Headquarters. Here, we appreciate Aaron Hotchner and understand that as a human, he did mess up and we should understand that, but that he’s not cold.

Also, soft!hotch rights.

There will be no Haley Hotchner or William LaMontagne Jr slander either. I love both of them so much and they both deserved better from the writers and the fandom.

My asks are currently on and I love talking to people so please don’t be shy! 

Just keep it SFW. And please don’t send me anything relating to suicide, I’m not sure I’m able to answer those properly right now.

And if you want an emoji, go ahead and tack one on to your ask!

I currently have a 🐨, 🦄 and a ☀️ anon, but everything else in on the table!

Writing

I write things! If you want, you can go read:

original writing

in which you can find my original writings blog and the novel i published on wattpad earlier this year

fanfics

in which hotch gets hurt a lot but most of them end with comfort... not all, but most

baby hotchner au

in which a case going wrong leads to hotch being turned into a child with vague memories of his life up to the age he is

drabbles

in which there is little plot but lots of random moments, sadness, a small amount of comfort and introspection

healing

in which each member of the bau attempts to help hotch’s grief after episode 100

the conversations series

in which the conversations we were robbed of on the show are written by me, so don’t expect the world of it

headcanons

in which, you realise that the reason they exist is because i am too lazy to turn them into proper fics or drabbles

criminal minds ships as taylor swift songs

in which i give me totally unprofessional opinion on what taylor swift songs remind me of random ships

morehotchcontent2020

in which the lovely @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety gave us the most beautiful prompts for a week worth of hotch-centric fics

sumayyah has 300

everything from my 300 celebration! (or everything i’ve done so far which is admittedly not a lot whoops...)

Triggers

I will tag any and all triggers that you need! You can either send an ask, on anon if you want, or a PM. Nothing is silly or stupid! I want this blog to be a safe space for everyone, and that includes you! Current triggers, which follow the system of tw [trigger name] are:

implied child abuse, child abuse, abuse, food mention, food, major character death, death, blood, suicide, implied suicidal thoughts, implied suicide, suicidal thoughts, grief, cancer, child murder, child death, murder, alcohol, self-harm, guns, gun mention, pregnancy, miscarriage, csa, religion, religious trauma, homophobia, stalking, drug addiction, disordered eating, weight, hospitals, panic attacks, medication, ptsd, unhealthy thoughts, trauma, trauma responses

I know the list is long and daunting but it’s everything I have ever talked about on here, so please don’t be afraid, and keep yourself safe!

Tagging

My personal tag is #sumayyah stop so if you would rather not hear about my day or “personal” life, feel free to black list it

My asks are now being tagged with: #people talk to me if you would rather not hear me ramble about Hotch’s emotions or say even stupider shit than normal.

When I liveblog what I’m writing, or share excerpts/snippets from current projects, or answer asks relating to WIPs or my novel, they will be tagged with #sumayyah talks writing

If something has a ship in it, I will tag that ship for the purpose of filtering!

Accessibility

This blog uses tone indicators in an attempt to be more accessible. The most common ones I use are/probably will be:

/s: sarcasm, /j: joke, /lh: light-hearted, /nm: not mad, /lu: little upset, /nbh: nobody here (probably if I go off on one about the way a character is treated by the writers and fandom)

I will also try and remember to add image descriptions to pictures- bear with me on those because I’m not very good at knowing what is meant to go in them

If there is anything you would like me to do in order to make it more accessible, please feel free to send an ask or a PM! I want everyone here to feel safe!

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Chapter 17

Coming Home

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

Word count - 3,124

Warnings for surgical procedure, somewhat graphic. Blood and gore, minor.

_________

~~~~Nico~~~~

Nico took a deep breath and stepped forward, ducking under the yellow tape criss-crossing over the open doors of the subway. The acrid stench of death hung in the air, mixing with the signature piss and sweat of the underground. Not a pretty smell.

But the view horrified her, too. Cracked glass and smeared blood, a few bullet casings and two blue-clad bodies lying on the floor like dolls discarded by a child with a new toy. Her comrades deserved so much better.

Her heart clenched as she saw their frozen faces. It was Franklin and Taylor; she’d chatted with them by the water cooler the other day. Taylor told her that stupid joke about the zero and the eight, and Franklin… he was only just learning the ropes. His whole life ahead of him.

It made her want to scream.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the unfairness of life. It twisted her up and spat her out more than once over the years. She’d fought tooth and claw to get where she was, struggle didn’t surprise her anymore. Misfortune had a cruel tendency to affect kind folks more than those who deserved it, but she always hoped to change that, even just a little. To leave the world better than when she entered it was all she wanted from life, despite how difficult the battle was. She could deal with the bad shit.

Still sucked to see the bad shit, though.

We gotta catch this fucker.

Balled fists held tight at her sides, she forced her eyes away from the corpses of her brothers in arms to scan the scene for any evidence that might lead to tracking down the psychopath who ended their lives. Anything would do, any thread she could tug to unravel the mystery and get to slap cuffs on the bastard. She’d never wanted to catch a criminal so badly, so deeply it kept her awake at night.

I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re going down, V.

The background check hadn’t given them much - he’d come from a middle class family, nothing remarkable about his childhood other than his fascination with art. By all accounts, while his young friends were off causing mischief, he’d be found visiting a museum or practicing his brushwork.

That is, until the shooting.

Regardless of his crimes, her heart went out to the poor bastard. Surviving a mass shooting by the sacrifice of a friend was enough to traumatize anyone. It was a damned shame (and an embarrassment to the healthcare system) that he didn’t get the help he needed afterward.

Still didn’t excuse killing folks, though.

At least they had one lead to follow - the doctor. After the dark-haired lunatic fled her apartment, it didn’t take long to get a search warrant. Techs were combing through the place, but they already had enough to put her away for at least a decade. Lobotomizing her own father, un-friggin-believable.

Tony was in shock, caught completely off guard by the doctor’s actions. His own hand-picked medical consultant, in league with the killer they hunted. A twist for the history books, he’d said. She’d never seen him so dumbfounded.

Despite being proven right about her suspicions, it turned Nico’s stomach to see the emptiness in Waras’s father’s eyes, the lack of humanity left behind. He was lucky to be alive, supposedly, but Nico had her doubts. Maybe death was a kinder fate than what the poor man endured.

He’ll never be the same. None of us will.

“I got a blood trail!”

Nico’s lips curved into a predatory smile. Franklin must’ve wounded the fucker, his last act one that could lead to the arrest of his killer. Cold comfort to his loved ones, but still. It was something.

~~~~Kotomi~~~~

The familiar click of her heels on cement vanished amidst the cries of the crowd. Enraged faces lined the entrance to Mundus Psychiatric Hospital, signs and shouts overwhelmingly oppressive. At least they weren't throwing fruit today. She’d count her blessings.

The protests first started a few days after the local news announced that V was the lead suspect in the recent killings, and that he’d escaped the historically secure facility. Citizens fearing for their safety flocked to the streets, calling for the hospital to close and the patients to go elsewhere, though nobody seemed to know where.  As long as it wasn’t here.

Nobody cares about an actual solution, just that the problem gets dumped on someone else’s lap.

Then one of the orderlies told the tale of the fire, heightening the rage and terror. Malphas still hadn’t figured out who talked, but when he did, heads were going to roll. The director’s professional reputation was irrevocably tainted, along with the entire staff (though his was the only name being slandered in the streets).

It shocked her to see normal people so furious. People who barely registered the hospital’s existence before, now vilifying it at every opportunity. It didn’t matter that the place housed mostly harmless individuals, or that the staff genuinely tried to help them heal. All the goodwill vanished in the wake of V’s rampage.

“Bitch! Don’t you care that folks are dying?!”

Kotomi flinched as a protester caught her gaze and stepped forward from the picket line, foam-flecked lips spewing vitriol. She moved faster; maybe she could get inside before it got any worse.

“How many innocent people have to get slaughtered before you fuckers close this shithole?! Give ’em all the chair, I say!”

She crossed her arms and curled her shoulders inward, her heart hammering as she tried to pass the man by. She only wanted to go to work. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She hadn’t done any harm.

That’s not quite true…

In a way, it was all her fault. If she hadn’t frozen up during the fire, maybe things would have turned out differently. Why did she always freeze when it mattered most?

Her thoughts stopped as the man grabbed her shoulder, his grip tight enough to bruise. His rancid breath fanned over her face as he shouted at her, the words lost in the wake of her terror. Quaking legs barely kept her upright as her body flooded with adrenaline, her pupils dilating and sweat blooming on her palms and forehead. Maybe if she stayed quiet, he’d let her go? Could she just wait it out?

What choice did she have?

And then a familiar voice called her name, a pair of worried brown eyes replacing those of the protester as Rob led her inside. Someone else coming to her rescue yet again, because she lacked the strength to save herself.

“Are you alright, Dr. Ishida?” he asked.

She forced her fingers to relax their iron grip on her purse strap. “I- I think so.”

Rob sighed and glanced back at the crowd, their shouting audible through the glass door. “They’re getting bolder. I’ll talk to Aaron again, there’s got to be something we can do.”

But they both knew there was little point. Until V was caught, nothing would quench the fury of the citizens or lessen their drive to close the facility. Maybe her mother was right, she should’ve gone into a different field. It might be time to walk away.

~~~~V~~~~

The artist grimaced as he limped along, his palm pressed against his thigh to staunch the bleeding and ease the pain. Each step he took brought another pang of agony, and he couldn’t find an exit wound- the bullet remained. He’d have to get it out and treat the wound. First, however, he needed to find a safe place to recuperate.

He leaned against a shipping container, cautiously lifting his palm to check the blood flow. It was slowing, at least. Progress. His belt proved an effective tourniquet. 

A gust of icy wind reminded him of his precarious position. The warehouse district wasn’t prone to pedestrians, which meant fewer eyes to spot him, but it also meant he stood out like a sore thumb to anyone who wandered by. He couldn’t afford to stay here long.

Keep moving. Can’t stop now.

He hobbled on, gritting his teeth against the pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead, itchy as it dripped through his hair. Aches ricocheted through his body, his muscles tired and close to quitting on him. He needed rest, a reprieve and a chance to plot his next move. Where could he go?

His friends stayed oddly silent. Did they abandon him? Unlikely, but he couldn’t discount the possibility. Either way, he had only himself to rely on.

Relying on others teaches one not to stand on their own. This is better.

Before long, his mind wandered to the worst three minutes of his life. It was inevitable after the reminders at the subway, the familiar crack of thunder as guns fired. How much pain had Nero endured that day? They said he’d been hit six times.

“Six… Six twelve Oak street…” he muttered. His vision swam and the artist faltered, shaking his head at his own foolishness.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Today was the day; he’d been looking forward to it. He’d had his doubts at first, but with each session Nero’s skill improved. The edges of his latest tattoos featured crisp definition, the whorls perfectly curved to follow the natural shape of his biceps.

The artist didn't notice the flush in his face and the dazed film in his eyes as he turned and set off in a new direction, his steps unsteady but determined. A slight smile graced his lips. What design would Nero add to the canvas of his flesh this time?  

~~~~Reader~~~~

You sprinted to your ancient car, barely noticing the absence of the undercover cop car as you forced the engine to roar to life. No doubt they’d seen V leave and given chase, which meant you didn’t have the choice of going back to your apartment. The police would search it from top to bottom.

They’re going to find the sketches…

It seemed so long ago that the artist first grasped that tiny nub of charcoal in your office, portraying your face in shades of grey. The roller coaster hadn’t stopped since that day, and it showed no signs of slowing.

But fuck it. No sense dwelling on what could’ve been, the life you could’ve had if you hadn’t requested his case. What was done was done. Time to get on with it.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled onto the main road. An aggressive guitar solo blared out and you winced as you turned the volume down, switching the channel a beat later. Social media probably had better info than the radio, but reading and driving didn’t mix.

“-unarmed but extremely dangerous. Police are advising locals to leave the area immediately. Last sighted exiting the subway station on 119th street, but current whereabouts unknown-”

The subway. Smart.

As if you’d expect anything less.

Within ten minutes, you reached 119th. Flashing lights and sirens greeted you, blue-clad officers milling around as one of them plastered crime scene tape over the railing. Mid-morning sunlight streamed down like a sick spotlight.

If V was here, he was beyond your reach.

Shit.

You turned at the next cross street. The police undoubtedly had your license plate by now, you’d need to do something about that. No sense lingering in a place chock full of them. But where to go? Where would V go?

A soft ding stole your attention; a new message. You crossed your fingers as you pulled over to check your phone.

It wasn’t far, maybe a five-minute drive. Thank the heavens, at least now you knew he hadn’t gotten arrested. Yet.

Still… the message had you worried. It lacked his usual eloquence and wit, and didn’t say whether he was physically okay. Shots fired, the TV said. You pursed your lips and pulled back into traffic, mind whirling with uncountable ways V might be injured. By the time you parked a block away from the quaint, two-story house, you could barely breathe through the anxiety.

Grabbing your backpack, you didn’t even bother locking the car as you speed walked to the yellow front door. What would you find within? If they hurt the artist, would you be able to help? What if only his corpse awaited you?

You swallowed thickly and tried the doorknob. Unlocked; you took a deep breath and entered. Nothing immediately jumped out at you. Photos of a white-haired teenager lined a nearby wall, a hall table holding mail and a dish to leave one’s keys in beneath them. No blood stained the walls, no sounds of pain echoed from another room. It was quiet.

“V? Are you here?”

No answer. Not good. You set aside your backpack and tried again, making your way through the home. Each second he didn't respond only heightened your fear, stinging your tongue with metal. He had to be seriously hurt or incapacitated somehow, and neither option helped the situation.

“V? Come on, where are you?” Your voice shuddered.

“...curse my stars…”

You spun and raced toward the voice, tearing open a door you’d missed before to find the artist, curled up on a massive bed. Blood stained the sheets, concentrated near his thigh. Sweat coated his brow and his eyes stared at nothing, unseeing in the grip of his pain and madness.

“...love so high…”

“Don’t worry, V. I’ve got you,” you murmured as you cupped his clammy cheek. Dilated eyes, sweat and warm to the touch. Most likely an infection. You shoved aside your feelings; time to get to work. Right now, he needed your medical care more than anything else you offered.

Fabric rustled as you took a seat beside him and searched for the source of the blood. Through the fabric of his jeans it was impossible to tell, so you quickly tugged them off, taking care to reapply his improvised tourniquet once the cloth was out of the way. Heart pounding, you finally found a darker spot in the tensor fasciae, close to his hip. There was no exit wound.

Oh, V… you walked here with a bullet in your leg?

At least it wasn’t too deep. Odd, but you’d take what you could get. A thin trickle of crimson oozed from the wound, but he wasn’t in danger of bleeding out yet. Assuming he hadn’t bled too much during his escape…

“I need to find supplies to treat you. I’ll be right back,” you said, stroking damp hair from his brow. His skin was on fire. He didn’t respond.

You pursed your lips and left him, searching the bathrooms and kitchen until you had what you needed. A moment more spent thoroughly washing your hands, and you returned. The artist hadn’t moved an inch.

Is he having an episode, too? Maybe that’s for the best, it’s possible he won’t notice when I take out the bullet.

The best you had was a longer than average pair of metal tweezers. If they didn’t do the job, you’d have to widen the wound. Thankfully it wasn’t close to any major arteries, so you were confident you had the skills to remove it safely. A few inches to the left, and he would’ve already been dead for an hour.

“Okay, this might hurt,” you told him, pausing for a moment before dousing his thigh with a mixture of bottled water and table salt. After a moment you turned him so the excess fluid spilled out, leaving the wound clean and ready. You gave him one last look as your fingers wrapped around your tool. The head lamp you found in the kitchen flared to life with a touch and you straddled his injured leg, keeping it as still as possible.

“Now for the really fun part…”

The artist twitched feebly as you probed the hole. For once it seemed his episodes were a blessing; if he were even remotely coherent, he surely would have screamed.

Centimeter by centimeter, you searched for the signature resistance of metal surrounded by human tissue. More blood leaked from the wound, drenching your hands and slowing your progress. Muttered verses occasionally interrupted the squelch of your work, but you paid his words no mind. A distraction surgeon never helped.

At last you found it, an unrelenting hardness amongst the fibrous muscle. You tapped around the bullet, getting a feel for its dimensions before making your move. The tweezers barely opened wide enough to take hold, but they did the job and you felt the bullet disturb the surrounding tissue as you slowly drew it out with a satisfying plop.

You sighed and set aside your prize. Another round of improvised saline later, you carefully sutured the wound closed and bandaged the area. The artist still made no indication of awareness, just lying there as you put him back together.

The moment you set down the roll of bandages, you started trembling. V’s blood covered your hands, the sour stench of sweat and chemicals hanging in the air. As pointless as it was, you couldn’t help but wonder why life had to be this difficult. The last twenty-four hours alone had your nerves begging for a break. What a sick world, where you had to remove a bullet from the man you lo-

Holy shit.

Air slipped from your gaping mouth as you fell back against the wall. A manic chuckle followed, then another. Was this what love was like? You’d never come close to it before, to this burning like fire in your soul. The thought of losing V mere hours ago had you in tears, falling apart like an infant without its mother for the first time. When you were with him, despite his murderous and unpredictable nature, you felt safe.

And the things you’d done for him - withholding medical information, lying to your boss and risking your medical license, everything you’d spent years working towards; not to mention what you did to your father.

He’d forced you to face yourself, someone you didn’t even know anymore. Changed your understanding of the world and of art, torn asunder your preconceptions and lit the way to new views. The eloquence of his speech, the grace in his movement, the curve of that smirk and the way his presence changed the atmosphere of any room…

I don’t know if this is love, but I don’t have another word that fits. Not even close. 

It was twisted; it was soaked in blood and violence, but you felt more authentic than you ever had. You smiled. Decades ago, you accepted that you might not be capable of love. 

How wonderful to be wrong.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[milindso]

Okay look (extremely long post)

Kallist’s “goodbye” post is absolutely ridiculous. first off, he’s playing victim, saying he “never wanted to be dragged into a cult (he never was in one), “never wanted to do any of this”, “only wanted to help the community and never wanted to be a leader but became a leader anyway”.

You don’t. get to say that when YOU were OPENLY HOSTILE TO US. You don’t get to be actively malicious and lie and then play victim the minute you face backlash. That’s not how this works. If you are going to attempt to slander someone with lies you are going to have to face the consequences of people disagreeing with you and calling you out on your lies and malice. You faced petty friend drama with a now ex-friend and you wanted to smear him because you were sad and felt “betrayed”  and “lied to” that you weren’t as close as you thought you were. That’s it. 

People aren’t disbelieving you because we “know the right things to say” or “know the right people”. People KNOW AND SEE that you are a liar. You were provided evidence that none of us support n*zis or b*stiality and you didn’t accept it because your face is so far up your butthole that nothing could convince you otherwise. But I’ll say it again: NEWSFLASH NONE OF US SUPPORT THAT STUFF. WE ALL KNOW IT’S WRONG. INCLUDING [REDACTED].

NO ONE TRICKED ANYONE INTO “TAKING OUR SIDE”. THEY TALKED TO US LIKE REGULAR PEOPLE AND SAW THAT YOUR LIES DID NOT ADD UP.

We were content with leaving you alone and moving on with our lives but you couldn’t let it go!! You decided to try to make the community UNSAFE for people who need support networks and make it “harder for them to hide”. That is EVIL. That is 100% EVIL, Kallist! You are an evil person, no questions asked!

Also “I didn’t want to be a leader but became one anyway” HELLO??? That is EXTREMELY arrogant. I was joking about this before, but are YOU the actual cult leader here??? Also, no one becomes a leader just because they have 100 followers. You just wanted to be a leader and believe you had influence.

Also, I don’t care if you say you’re not an anti. You have EXTREMELY anti-leaning tendencies. You support callouts and harassment. You compared what [redacted] did (something disgusting but also something they don’t remember doing because they were DRUNK) a ship. You apologized for your own coping mechanisms (YOU DON’T NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW YOU COPE). Those are all things that antis do. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck.

We also didn’t post too many screenshots because.....we don’t believe in canceling people??? We didn’t even want to cancel YOU we just wanted to MOVE ON. If someone does one bad thing they don’t deserve to be automatically cancelled!! Yeah what happened was gross but it also doesn’t define them as a person!!! Maybe give people second chances bro!!!

Also none of us sent anon hate. Or if they did, I don’t know who they are, and I’m disappointed in them. None of us wanted to send you anon hate and I’m truly sorry for it. But at the same time, it looks a lot like you consider anons giving you constructive criticism and disagreeing with you as harassment. Which is. hm. The cult leader tendency to Discourage Questioning.

Although I will say this -- I am truly not sure if your post reads as a s*icide note (I am autistic and have a hard time reading intent). If it is, I don’t want you to kill yourself. None of us do. We don’t wish death on anyone. We just wanted you to stop lying and move on and maybe become a better person. I really hope that someone prevents it from happening, you recover and get the help and resources you need, and you can realize the harm you’ve caused people and work on getting better. No one is inherently evil and we are willing to forgive you. Just stop being malicious.

**Edit: our friend requested that I remove their name from this post

[swiztothistay]

Open Letter to the Grey’s Anatomy fans, cast, and crew:

I’ve been a Grey’s Anatomy fan since 2005. I’ve had my Twitter account since 2009. I remember the ‘good old days,’ like in 2013 when Ellen Pompeo first joined Twitter and would tweet super random things and loved interacting with us. The Grey’s Anatomy fandom is (for the most part) an incredibly supportive community that I’ve generally enjoyed taking part in. I’ve met some of my best friends there. However, in recent years, particularly since 2015, I have noticed an increasingly negative side of that community.

As it stands right now, the Grey’s fandom on Twitter is an incredibly toxic environment and appears to consist of whiny, entitled teenagers who seem to think it’s acceptable to direct their complaints about characters and storylines to the cast, writers, and/or crew involved. Let me be very clear about this point:

It’s not acceptable. Period.

These are people who dedicate their lives to creating stories and characters for us as fans. They work 18+ hour days an awful lot of the time. Much of the cast has remained and continues to remain at Grey’s because of the fans. However, as of late, fans show absolutely no respect for these people and it continually astounds me how you treat them. You have all contributed to a fandom that has successfully alienated the cast and crew of a show you all claim to love. Caterina rarely tweets. Jessica doesn’t interact with any of you, and in fact unfollowed most of the fans she did follow. Justin avoided Twitter for months. Ellen can’t be asked 95% of the time, and I truly believe that this is a direct result of supposed “fans” either a) simply being incredibly rude [yet expecting respectful responses back?!?!], or b) complaining because storylines on the show aren’t going as you would like them to.

Recently, one fan (jokingly?) tweeted Krista Vernoff, who has only recently returned to Grey’s as an executive producer, that they would “burn down her house” if she didn’t do right by their 'ship.’ Threats like this are not a joke to these people – who have had to deal with incidents such as fans showing up on their doorsteps and calling their phones, for example. Fans like that have instilled fear into the hearts of this cast. You have no boundaries and zero respect for their privacy. The cast, though being celebrities, are everyday people like us. They are entitled to their privacy. You don’t get to demand access into their lives simply because you are a fan. Stop acting like it’s your God-given right.

To the many MerDer fans I know who have a tendency to slut-shame Meredith for being with other men since Derek: that’s simply not fair. It has been two years since his death for us as viewers, and longer in the Grey’s timeline. While I admit, as a diehard MerDer fan myself, it pains me to watch Mer move on, I think it’s important to realize that Meredith (and all widows) have every right to move on – on their timeline, and at their choosing. You wouldn’t slut shame a widow in your own life, would you?

To the many “fans” who once loved MerDer, once loved Patrick as much as they love Ellen, who now bash Patrick for leaving: you have NO reason to consistently bash a man who, despite your best attempts at denial, helped make Grey’s Anatomy what it was. For years, Ellen Pompeo and Patrick Dempsey were the face of the show. MerDer is a huge part of pop culture and even if a person didn’t watch the show, chances were they could identify MerDer, or at the very least Ellen and/or Patrick. Simply put, you don’t know what happened. No one, except the members of the cast who were on set at the time, know what happened. It’s likely we will never know. And, we are not entitled to that knowledge. Really, it’s none of our business. Shonda and the rest of the cast and crew are done talking about it. You need to be too.

To the fans who tweet negative things about a character simply to get a rise out of others: we all see how you do this and then play the victim when said character’s fans go on the defense. You just create more drama and add to the toxic nature of the fandom. It’s ugly. You try and then claim how “you don’t know me” and how “I’m a good person.” Well, do the rest of us a favor and show us that so-called good character through your ACTIONS. If your timeline is full of you calling other fans words I will not repeat here, it’s hard to assume you are a decent person. It’s really not that hard to keep your mouth shut if you don’t like someone or something. I’m guessing though, that most of your parents never taught you that principle of “if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say it at all.” However, the same goes for those who jump to the defense of their favorite characters - be respectful or don’t say anything.

To the MANY so-called fans who, for the past nine months, have consistently slandered Ellen Pompeo, who send her hateful comments every time she tweets about racism, who call her 'Ms. Reverse Racism’ (among other things), and then cry victim when Ellen responds in kind, congrats! You have created a culture where it’s seen as “cool” to hate the star of your favorite show, to tear her down, and to tear her fans down. It’s clear you also enjoy actively seeking out her fans who continue to support her and harassing them as well. You also have been caught tweeting hateful things to lay people who aren’t involved in the Grey’s fandom but have met her, and that is completely and utterly vile.

It is also quite evident to many of us that those who attack Ellen and call her a reverse racist do not fully understand the issue at hand. Ellen has three biracial children. Her husband is black. You cannot honestly think that, even as a white woman with privilege, it doesn’t strike fear into her heart that perhaps one day her husband might be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong law enforcement officer(s)? That her children won’t experience racism and hatred on the playground or in class one day? A mother’s heart bleeds when her children are in pain. Ellen wants better for her children than what is happening in America today. She is 100% an ally and is on the right side, fighting against racism and discrimination every day – despite your extremely misguided opinions. She is also not wrong in that racism comes in many forms. It occurs at a systematic level, at a community level, at an individual level. The issue is FAR more complex than you all make it out to be – it is not, for lack of better words, a black and white issue. There are many issues at play here.

Yes, sometimes we have to educate those fighting on the front lines with us. Rather than attacking someone for using the wrong words, educate them. And by educate, that does not mean attacking them, calling them fat, calling them a white bitch, etc. As Krista herself said, you get more flies with honey than with vinegar. The way to educate your allies is with kindness, empathy, and respect. You also might have more success if you were respectful - rather than being disrespectful and expecting Ellen’s respect back. She is not a woman who respects those who disrespect her. Respect is earned. You are not automatically entitled to it. Don’t alienate your allies. Ellen has a huge platform and is using it to raise awareness of so many important social justice and environmental issues. And if you don’t like it, or if you take issue with which emoji colors she uses…there is a handy little unfollow button at the top right on her profile. There is also a block button, where you won’t be privy to anything she tweets. Make use of these.

In recent weeks, some of my own friends have left the fandom because they could no longer handle the toxic environment. For their own mental health and well-being, they had to leave. That’s sad. These people love the cast, they love the characters, but they no longer feel safe expressing that anymore. This feeling of not being safe has also come about as a direct result of “group chat” accounts, where multiple people have access to the same account. These people use these groups as a medium to publicly post their “jokes” - many of which are in fact harmful. Your group chat accounts aren’t cute. You can claim that the intent was a joke all you want, but that doesn’t negate the harm you do. You don’t get to say hateful things and then dictate how others respond, under the claim that “it’s a joke.” Be more conscious of your words, and how they have consequences, unintended as they may be. Truthfully, it is much easier to simply think about the things you say than to undo the harm, regardless of your intent.

Ellen, in her 2016 speech accepting the award for 'Best TV Drama’ at the People’s Choice Awards, said that “Our show is about understanding, and compassion, and tolerance, and kindness. And those are themes that we could all use more of.” Let’s make this fandom reflect that as well. Be kinder to the cast and crew and show them some respect. Be kinder to each other. Be more accepting. We all have different favourite characters and different reasons for having those favourites. We each bring different perspectives and experiences to the table. Let’s try to recognize that and create a culture of respect for each other. It’s perfectly fine to disagree on things. What’s not okay is to brutally attack each other, to treat each other with rudeness and hatred. At the end of the day, we all love the same TV show: Grey’s Anatomy.

Finally, on behalf of the 99% of the Grey’s fandom to whom 1% gives a bad name, I would like to extend my apologies to the Grey’s Anatomy cast, crew and writers for the behavior of this small group of fans who have overtaken our fandom and appear to represent us. There is a vast majority of fans who are incredible people that greatly respect and admire the work you all do. We are just outshadowed by the negative. It’s time for that to change.

Look what you made me do. Adriana (@swiftxgreys on Twitter)