#don’t get wrong we can criticise the writing and how you feel about how the characters are written/their personalities but i don’t think we

[loverbobby]

unfortunately i think some of you take a video game way too seriously 😭 am i out of the loop bc why are we shaming people for how they choose to play it? why does our choice of pixelated man or woman anger you in the way it does? i promise you darling it isn’t that deep

[ladykakata]

I just saw your post about ian’s disorder and how it distorts his reality and makes him question why mickey remains in his life and you really hit the nail on the head. people rarely talk about gallavich’s relationship battles from ian’s perspective unless it’s to criticise him and I think a lot of people find it difficult to relate to his issues ig? but mood disorders go hand in hand with anxiety, identity and confidence issues. but I also think its a writing issue because so little of ian’s experiences with his illness comes from his own perspective. so it makes sense the audience tends to sympathise more with mickey because we don’t get to see ian’s personal struggle or his reasoning for certain behaviors and s10 is one of the rare examples where he got to explain his issues and the audience still couldn’t understand. sorry this is ranty lol but I’m just happy to see more meta that defends some of ian’s actions 😊

Thank you <3 It makes me sad to see so many comments practically demonise Ian, and while Ian DOES do questionable things, he's no more or less blameless than Mickey.

A comment on my post mentioned that Ian fought for Mickey just as much as Mickey fought for Ian ... in the early seasons. Remember, Mickey literally beat Ian up in frustration over the situation with Svetlana and the forced marriage. Does him attacking Ian get him off the hook for what he did? No. Does it justify it? No. It's context, not justification, which can be two entirely different things. Ian refused to let Mickey go, he loved Mickey and was visibly heartbroken at the idea his man was slipping away, even if Mickey was trying to cover up his own upset by acting aggressively. Stans might paint Ian as in the wrong again, saying he should have been supportive of Mickey going through the forced marriage and understanding it's not as 'easy' as Ian makes it sound for Mickey to just deny his father. But bearing in mind, their relationship was still very young, Ian knows Terry is a disgusting and violent man, but the sense of doom and horror is not the same unless you've grown up with it and lived it like Mickey.

Ian fought for Mickey. And Mickey fought for Ian during his bipolar struggles. Keeping score is NOT wise in relationships, so I wouldn't call this keeping score, more them trading places in who is asking the other to stay or saying they love the other during dark times.

Another point is that this was all before Ian's bipolar condition really started to manifest, so Mickey must have been even more confused that the man who was distraught over him entering a meaningless marriage was suddenly pulling away and questioning his devotion. Emotional permanence is difficult in a lot of conditions, again I am not bipolar myself but DO have pretty erratic emotional issues that mean I can go from feeling adored to feeling like the scum of the Earth everyone hates, and there's the persistent background hum of feeling unwanted that's lifelong. Ian gets a triple-hit in that he's a middle child (younger than Fiona and Lip, older than Carl, Debbie and Liam), he's inherited Monica's bipolar disorder and his chronically unstable home life tends to lead to the idea of feeling wanted by his parents and forgotten by most. I wouldn't be surprised if he felt like his mother just rejected him/abandoned him considering how often she is gone, Frank has literally attacked him unprovoked and it was only when he grew in height and gained some confidence he really started to push back, and he is neither the baby of the family nor the parent figures that Fiona and Lip were forced to be. The people he tends to form relationships with tended to lean towards lust with no real chance at a stable, happy relationship (Kash, a married man with children, and Ned, who is the same albeit Jimmy is an adult) before Caleb and Trevor, which wouldn't surprise me if he again subconsciously thought he was disposable.

I guess I'm picking up on the side effects of Ian's neurodivergence, and it pairs with a comment remarking on how people are supportive of mental health disorders until their effects affect them, then suddenly everything is unacceptable. Again, some of Ian's actions are not justified - I'm once again referring to him baiting Mickey into a physical fight by calling him slurs - but he himself explains why he did it. Mickey looked past it, and I do wonder if he's realising that yeah ... Ian, the man HE knew and who was proudly gay with very little tolerance for homophobia, suddenly turning around and calling him slurs was incredibly out of character and likely another moment of Ian's brain lashing out.

Ian did negative things to Mickey, and he should apologise. Just as Mickey has done things to Ian and should apologise. One is not better than the other. Mickey's reasons for doing things can lie with his upbringing, PTSD and circumstances, Ian's reasons can lie with bipolar disorder, his upbringing and circumstances. But they are still well-intentioned for each other, and I think they do help bring out the best in each other.

[lilacxquartz]

kindaaaa curious o3o is there a reason why you go for darker - scarier characters? or make them to be so evil? this is nothing wrong btw! i am the exact same way - i would like to have more insight why we are the way we are. >< is it trauma related? for me it is. or is it because we are just both formerly weird kids who now have access to an imagination we both try to understand through art and words? english is not my first language sorry @_@~~~

why hello there anon, i’ll try to explain this as thoroughly as possible! i’ll cut off this ramble into a line break though, because i’ll be talking about some not so pretty subjects. tw for that reason

tw tw tw tw tw

on the prospect of it being related to trauma, it’s very likely. i had a rough childhood due to abusive parents, so for a good chunk of it, i isolated myself and became extremely chronically online because it was a good coping mechanism. i got really into anime, creepy pasta, twitch, gaming & things like that because they were my escapisms and now even though i’m in my twenties, i still have that same personality bc that’s what shaped me instead of idk, a “normal” social experience.

but essentially all of my comfort characters that i started to obsess over were never once normal to start with. we had pyramid head, the joker, bill cipher, specifically medic from tf2, misa amane & some others, who i now forgot.

going to college partially fixed that because i opened myself up to other weird people similar to me, but unfortunately created a whole new traumatic experience because i got sexually assaulted. ):

so now we enter the new stage of life: navigating my trauma through cReAtiViTy !! and like, it does help a lot. for the first time in my life, i have a place to finally put all of those bad thoughts into a thing that doesn’t actually hurt me for once.

to be clear, i don’t support toxic behaviours and abusive relationships at all, but writing about those things does help me self reflect a little and understand myself more, which my therapist actually encourages, so sure, let’s keep doing that. i do know however that this isn’t for everyone though; such as the repeating fanfic with dark themes and the recurring hurt/no comfort stories, but personally, it does help. idk.

so this all ties back to the types of characters i like and how i utilise their personalities in producing fiction. currently i’m very into sukuna, geto, mahito & kenjaku which are all… very… yeah, um. lacking in the moral compass department. i just figure that they’re already kinda insane or just like bad/evil, in general, so i can use them to explore darker feelings but also twist all that into comfort when i need it (which is when you’ll catch me writing fluff).

i do see this level of coping get criticised on tumblr and tiktok pretty often though, but ah well, it is what it is. i’m getting help for my stuff irl which is a step in the right direction & otherwise regardless of what i write and how i write it, i try to at least make my blog a safe space for people who might feel similar in seeking out such content.

tldr: it’s all trauma’s fault and it’s nice to play pretend with morally depraved characters because they’re not real. 😮‍💨

[mixsethaddams]

Steddie Christmas headcannon/minific for the upcoming season.

(Also posted on ao3 titled Love The Giver, u/n MixAddams

***********

Eddie never really celebrated beyond a string of lights around the trailer window and buying a new pair of work gloves for Wayne. His uncle had raised him to appreciate the sentiment of the season rather than anything else because of their financial situation. Whenever the little string of multicoloured lights went up, Eddie felt a surge of happiness knowing they’d be soon be spending more time together on Wayne’s nights off watching their favourite festive movies.

Steve had everything he ever wanted for Christmas, but could never really muster any emotional attachment to the holidays. His parents were always too detached for it to ever really mean anything. It was a purely transactional time of year in the Harrington house. Steve would haul decorations out of the attic and dread having to pit on the yearly Happy Family act, for the sake of visitors and Christmas cards.

Their first Christmas together, Steve doesn’t know how to react when, early in December, Eddie asks him if they should plan out the movies they’ll watch in the run up to the 25th or just play it by ear and watch whatever they feel like on a particular day.

“Why would we…plan that?”

“So just decide as we go? Sounds good, but we’ll need a system if we disagree,”

Steve was still lost.

The week before Christmas he was still panicking about buying a gift for Eddie. It had to be perfect, obviously. Years of buying ‘perfect’ gifts that ended up being criticised for being too big or too small or the wrong colour or Why Would I Want Something Like This, Steven? had skewed his confidence. He was driving himself to a near panjc attack with worry that Eddie would sneer at whatever he bought him, despite knowing that realistically he wouldn’t. Probably. Fuck.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Steve blurted out one night.

They were watching a festive movie that had The Muppets in it, Eddie snuggled in under Steve’s arm as the lay on the couch. It was a new one that Eddie hadn’t seen yet and he had a dumb smile on his face the whole time, and kept saying how he couldn’t wait to show Wayne.

Eddie twisted to look up at Steve.

“Just you,” he mumbled, leaning up to plant a kiss on the corner of his worried mouth.

Steve followed him back down for another, proper kiss.

“Seriously though,” he said. “I’m at a loss, man”

Eddie just snuggled deeper under his arm and turned back towards their movie.

“I am serious,” he told him. “I’ve got you, got The Muppets, got a case of beer on the porch, I’m all set.”

“But what if…” Steve bit his lip. “What if I get you something and you hate it?”

Eddie paused the movie and looked back to Steve.

“Is this really worrying you?” asked Eddie.

Steve nodded.

“So don’t buy anything,” said Eddie with a shrug. “Problem solved. It’s not like I need anything,”

“I can’t get you *nothing*,” snorted Steve.

Eddie’s brow furrowed as he thought.

“Remember I said I could do with a new cable for my amp?” he said simply. “That. You can buy that.”

“And what else?” asked Steve, his mind already firing off to all the extras he could buy. A new pedal. A whole new amp. Another guitar.

Eddie kissed him again.

“Just you,” he repeated. “All I need is you,”

Steve tried to protest again but Eddie cut him off.

“Stop, come on, listen to me,” he said, stroking Steve’s cheek. “I don’t need gifts. I need this, what we’re doing now. Just spending time together,”

Steve relented.

“Will you write down the type of cable you need?” he squeaked. “So I don’t mess it up?”

Eddie nodded and told Steve to shush now so they could watch the movie.

Christmas morning came and they exchanged gifts in bed before heading to Wayne’s place. Steve nervously handed over a small package wrapped as nicely as he could, containing the cable that Eddie said he had needed. He had sworn a promise to buy ONLY they cable and his guts were twisting at the thoughts of not having several follow ups.

Eddie tore the corner and pulled the cable out, before smiling at Steve and telling him how perfect it was.

“Now open yours,” said Eddie, waving a hand towards the haphazardly wrapped box on Steve’s knees.

It was a set of three blank photo albums.

“You said you wanted to start getting all your pictures together,” Eddie told him.

Steve looked down at the albums. He had mentioned it in passing, months ago, that he was afraid that the pictures of them and the kids would get damaged just sitting around, and he should started putting them in a collection. There was a page at the start of each album for the date range of the contents, and even a section to name the people who might appear in it.

Steve started to cry.

“Oh god,” said Eddie, worried. He hadn’t expected this reaction.

“This is so thoughtful,” Steve sobbed out.

Thoughtful gifts were never something he had any experience with. It was all about the cost when he was growing up. It was only a good gift if it cost too much money and even that wasn’t a guarantee that it would be well-received. Eddie bundled him up into a hug and held him tight as he spluttered out a million thank you’s and held the albums to his chest.

When they arrived at the trailer that afternoon, Wayne greeted them both warmly and pushed a small gift bag into Steve’s hands. Steve panicked. He had nothing for Wayne.

“This is from both of us, by the way,” he heard Eddie say.

Steve looked up to see Wayne holding a brand new coat, the type with fleece-lining and a large collar.

“You boys are too good to me, this is perfect,” said Wayne, who had told them during the summer that his existing coat probably only had one good winter left in it.

Eddie grinned as his uncle kissed his forehead.

Steve peered into the gift bag that he was holding and his stomach flipped. Socks and boxers. He looked up and seen Eddie celebrating over receiving the same things.

Something slid into place in Steve’s brain.

Eddie told him he needed the cable for his amp. Wayne had told them about his coat. He had told Wayne (jokingly, after having some drinks together one night) that Eddie was stealing all his good underwear. And he had mentioned wanting to get started on photo albums.

Gifts in this family weren’t about one-upping each other. They were about paying attention. Listening to the people around you and assessing their needs. Their was no need to buy anything flashy that would sit in a corner gathering dust, not when you could buy something practical that would get used every single day.

Steve stood clutching his little bag and fighting off tears. Wayne went to hang his new coat in his closet and Eddie winked at Steve.

“Happy?” asked Eddie.

Steve smiled.

“More than ever,” he said.

[ghostboneswrites2]

I think you're literally the only person I've ever see show common sense regarding shipping and adult and kids. Like fr if I say it's wrong I get hit by barrage of it's fiction, it's not real, it's a coping mechanism, it's ship and let ship, pro shipping is valid. I see so many posts going round saying it's not ethical to criticise a fictional ship that's problematic because it's not real. But for example using Cegan faces via the actors is JDM and Chandler Riggs who is a child. Like I feel like I'm going insane sometimes. Also people who deliberately write incest or stuff like that because they are into it or are drawn to it like... I've had people say it's only fictional incest they're obsessed with. It's not like it's part of a plot like house of the dragon where it's also looked down on and hated in their fictional world. It's like people are writing it for their own gratification and that worries me. I wrote JDM x OC because I'm heavily into JDM and writing Negan is living vicariously. I project on to an adult oc. But to ship Cegan is to project you're sexually attracted to either children or the idea of an adult and kids together which is just hugely gross

Absolutely NO hate to this anon bc I fully agree but do want to both answer this ask and use it as a quick little PSA that I will no longer respond to shipping discourse on this blog. This will be the last one! I don’t want any of this drama to deter my followers and cloud their feeds. Henceforth this blog is Daryl fanfiction only! 💚 ((If you do want to talk about this feel free to use my other blog @crxss-bxw))

Anyways, yeah I fully agree. Writing adult x child content is incredibly sus and so is consuming it.

I like to assume (for my own mental health) that most of them are kids and they just have the hots for an adult character so they think it’s okay but the sad reality is that a lot of the people participating in these pedophilic ships are adults and it’s a form of grooming imo to put that sort of content out there and normalize it.

It desensitizes the reader to things like pedophilia (or in other cases incest or beastiality).

They can say “minors DNI” all day but that’s not gonna stop a minor from interacting.

They can call it a coping mechanism all day but if you’re a victim of CSA then you need therapy to help you learn real healthy coping mechanisms. You don’t need to seek out adult x child content that romanticizes the very behaviors that traumatized you in the first place. That is doing way more harm than good.

And the “it’s fictional” argument is flimsy and made of straw. Lolita was a work of fiction too, and the entire purpose of that story is to show how sick and twisted the mind of an individual who is attracted to children is. It wasn’t meant to be romanticized. Yet, here we are today, where people regularly romanticize it as if it’s a romance novel when it is indeed quite the opposite.

Not only that, but sites like ao3 literally exist for problematic ships to be posted without backlash, so why act surprised when people on a platform like this one express discomfort with things like pedophilia or incest within their fandoms???

And since you mentioned the actual actors behind the characters, it does feel incredibly harmful for a child actor or an adult actor to have their faces used for content that is literal pedophilia.

Anyways, thanks for the ask & if you wanna continue the conversation or talk about anything else feel free to pm or use the asks on @crxss-bxw. (That goes for anyone. If any of you ceganers show up in my inbox behind an anon on this blog I’m just gonna block u xoxoxo there’s literally nothing you could say to make me change my mind)

[ronanceautistic]

12 13 14

unpopular character i actually like

Fred :)

worst blorbofication

don’t get me wrong i know what blorbo is, but im so tired right now and can’t figure out what this question is asking so if u want the answer to this i will need an explanation 😭

that one thing you see in fics all the time

like a thing i dislike? i might as well keep on brand with these asks but one random quirk i see in a lot of fics which im sure people do t even notice they do when they write it, is feel the need to defend steve after a character maybe criticises him a little? not even in a big way but it’s along the lines of like nancy talking about how her relationship with steve hurt her and how it’s hard to love someone but then go one to have her be like “but, you know, he’s changed and he’s great” and like… guys… i’m not even saying he hasn’t but we don’t need this we can let her be hurt or bitter! she doesn’t have to acknowledge how changed he is if she isn’t feeling great about it all in that moment! or even just a tinier instance of “steve could be annoying sometimes but he was still robins other half and soulmate and” ohhh my god just say robin finds him annoying sometimes that is A NORMAL FRIENDSHIP DYNAMIC

anyways no shade if anyone has done this because like i said i doubt it’s even intentional and tbh, im certain i probably have at some point.

[the1975attheirverybest]

the ask about gabbriette following a chef is so funny because what is the bet that (unfortunately) everyone here is following at least one zionist whether it be lana del ray, jack black or whoever so to criticise her based on one follow?

on a different note, bfiafl chapter 5!!!!

omg it was so good and i love how matty and joshua get along and how incredibly evident that matty would still do literally anything for amelia :( and the slap? and what follows? so incredibly hot but also emotionally destroying that the only way he can cum is through punishment and pain and how even his pleasure is painful :( it made me want to sob i had to put my phone down for a second to process that ending because i dread to think what it was like for him after she left

i also saw mention the thing about fanfic feeling weird and fully yeah. i initially wanted to not read and 1975 fanfic because i thought it would be weird to read rpf again (i used to read a shit ton of fall out boy fanfic then other bands but after mainly read fully fiction) but then read one that circulated twitter and then the rest of the one shots in the collection and then went on ao3 'just to look' and now here we are but i guess the thing is whether you fully buy into it and ship it and be weird about it or if its just a fun thing but i honestly still haven't figured out why i cant not read fanfic but fanfic has existed for decades so its by no means a new thing to find weird

more personally though, i went christmas shopping today and it made me really emotional (mainly because of the evocative playlist) because i dont know who to buy presents or what to buy because as much as i should be seeing all of my friends from sixth form i dont really care much about them? like its always such an effort to see each other and as much as theyre lovely and im 'in contact' with them i dont really care much about them that much in comparison to my uni friends because i dont think they've been great friends? i feel like maybe im being harsh because they havent done anything wrong. but its also so many people to buy for and no one has mentioned secret santa. its nust really stressing me out because because i have already spent a fortune and have three gifts to crochet let alone another seven people to sort out and three missed birthdays

im so sorry for yapping so much but if you want i have a couple very pretty photos from this evening!! i also do genuinely want to know how you have been doing especially after the last couple weeks. i hope now chapter five is out you feel less like you're an incapable writer? because you are definitely not!!

Yeah, I mean, it’s weird how some people hold Matty’s partners to a totally different standard than ordinary humans. Also like…all Gabriette does is mind her business. Why can’t people let her live!

Oh my gosh thank you so so much for reading and for caring about what I write and the characters and everything this is such a generous and perfect reading 🥹💗💗 it makes me so happy when people pick up on stuff like that cuz that’s definitely what I had in mind but I never know if it’s coming across or not so thank youuuuuu 🩷🩷🩷

Honestly? If you think about it, most “great literature” is fanfic LMAO. Greco-Roman culture is mostly people shipping different gods and Demi gods and whatnot hahahaha. And then Chaucer and Shakespeare, Donne, Marlowe, etc. all wrote fanfics of ancient literature, medieval British history, Roman war fanfics etc. like I don’t get the stigma around it at all. It can be empowering and a way to forge community and tell stories that you would otherwise not have the tools for or the readership. So…why the fuck not.

No, I totally understand what you mean. I think that sometimes the friends that you make when you’re younger are just through convenience and stuff. Like you’re in the same class together for a lot of the time and you get to know each other. Over time it becomes a thing of “history” like sure they’re so different from you as personalities etc. but you’ve known them for so long and you’ve all put up with each other so it kind of just…happens. Then you go off to uni, you mature personally and intellectually and begin to meet more like minded people etc. and form friendships on different bases. It’s totally natural to feel differently about your previous friends now. It’s part of growing up. Some friendships stay. Some fizzle and come back around later in life. Others just kinda….end. And there’s no one right way to do it for everyone!

Yes yes yes yes I wanna see those pics!!!

I’m pushing through. Honestly I don’t know what’s going on but my mental health just can’t seem to improve lmao. Sure I’ve had bad days before, but not this bad and not for this long. Oh well.

Nah I still want to burn everything I’ve ever written and delete it off the internet. Chapter 5 ESPECIALLY. The pacing just ISNT RIGHT. But I genuinely ran out of ways to fix it so I just let it go. Maybe I just lack the skill set to tell the particular story that I’m trying to tell? Like I don’t even know at this point. Or maybe it’s the depression self-hate talking? It’ll be fine I guess. We’ll have to wait and see lol.

[theeeveetamer]

Ooh I’ve been absent in the fandom for a while (so my everything is rusty), I didn’t realise that ppl would criticise the game cause we don’t know the continent name? In terms of lore I don’t think its that important to develop, instead I want to focus on the lands of Nohr and Hoshido.

For me whenever I read leokumi there’s a focus on strengthening relationships between the two nations, and whilst I love love love that the main focus is Leo and Takumi, I’ve read so many that I want a plot that includes their relationship whilst not glossing over trying to establish the peace between the two nations, especially because they seem to have a history of war (I think). Normally I would just write it but then I realised that there’s so many missing details and so that’s where my idea came from to flesh it out.

I absolutely agree on what you’re saying since establishing random facts like ancestry etc is not what interests me, UNLESS that ancestor idk was responsible for establishing like a mage school which has a knock on effect in the present game (because like the Nohrians are known for their dark mages. I swear I heard there was a school there, and its curious that dark mages aren’t as feared compared to their counterparts in other games and genres. Perhaps another point towards the desperation of Nohr? Or perhaps they are less fearful of the unknown? Or maybe willing to experiment, one could say innovative? [Stuff like this I wanna build on]). Oh plus also the relations with the smaller nations/towns (?) like Nestra, Mokushu etc (I’ve still to research on this part so maybe I’m wrong)

Funny you should mention the concubine wars. I was going through the Fates Drama and like I would love if the concubine wars were mentioned more. Fans seem to know that some of their siblings died during disputes between the concubines but also some were executed, died in battle, taken by Hoshido and I feel like that offers already so many questions to expand on. But also begs the question on really how many children were there in total. A fanfic set where Corrin or Azura has to navigate the court or even Takumi navigating the court would be super interesting.

But yes, deffo that point. One that I struggle on is the establishing of peace between Nohr and Hoshido. I want to know why its difficult. Like ofc we have the villages and ppl affected, but how far does it go back? Realistically there would be resistance groups, perhaps from both sides? Why wasn’t trade the first thought? Or did it start with trade and escalate? How much of it was Garon or was Hoshido being difficult etc.

I didn’t think about the farming techniques but that’s something I want to explore as well. I think during peace times it would make sense for Leo to use Brynhildr to try and heal the land. I want the legendary weapons to be used more if that makes sense. Like the two swords on both sides make sense for defending the country but a magical tome has so much more potential, especially on the agriculture and perhaps terraforming with gravity. Fujin Yumi wise, I’d have to do more research but it would be poetic if the second sons of both nations were in charge of making sure the nations thrived from within whilst the elder brothers defend it.

Omg I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for it to be so long. It’s just really nice to ramble to someone who knows what I’m talking about and that cares ^^’ If AO3 allows such a thing then I might start planning, I’ve already got 2 sheets of notes from the audio Drama :D

Thank you for listening again!

-N

Oh also I just read my ask you answered and by no means did I mean to trash fates. I love the game but I just have issues with the plot. It makes me sad at all the potential lost since I love the game and it's cast. But yeah its not to say that the history and world building we got was bad, I just as a lore nerd crave more. I really hope we can get a remake, maybe on switch but at this rate I think it's copium. I read the wikipedia and apparently one of the writers wrote enough for 2 books worth in terms of plot and just aaa I wonder how they must feel about the game

-N

Oh, let me be clear I didn't think you were trashing Fates with your first ask! Don't worry about that anon. Also, I would DIE if they gave us a switch release of Fates, especially if they re-localized it to make it more accurate. Like honestly I'd be so over the moon. But I'd also accept just a port, I mean it's kind of necessary since I believe Rev is now no longer available on the eshop as of this month and the rest of the eshop is shutting down soon?

Anyway I'm glad we're similarly minded with regard to establishing background facts that don't have much effect on the present, lol. As for the history of conflict, it's been a while since I've played, but IIRC there was always the implication that Anankos's influence was part of what's been driving conflict between the nations? I suppose if you were writing an AU that ignores Valla though (or wanted reasons beyond that) you could really go with anything. I think the game also implies that Hoshido is kind of isolationist and that combined with their bountiful lands kind of leads to Nohrians resenting them? Resources and lack thereof have always been a major driver of conflict historically.

All of the stuff you brought up does sound interesting! I'd especially like to see your take on the Nohr dark mages because you're right, it doesn't really seem all that strange there like it does in other places in the series.

Anyway no problem! Feel free to ramble or ask for opinions any time! I double checked AO3's ToS for you and yeah, I believe something like this would qualify as fannish meta so you should be good to post it there!

[soul-wanderer]

The Noel Diary (a brief and belated review) (okay, we all know this won’t be brief, because these reviews are not ever brief)

The Good:

- Barrett being her usual cute self and a literal light in the darkness of this season

- Barrett singing, incredible as usual

- A cute dog, can’t ever go wrong with that

- Small town christmas vibes, kinda cute, even if it’s also kitschy

- The neighbour lady and her date/boyfriend, 10/10 would ship it again

- “If you said there was only one room left, this would be like a rom-com” was, again, kitschy, but given the tone of this movie I’ll allow it and give it a brief chuckle

- For half of this movie, Barrett’s (aka Rachel’s) outfits and hair were on point (you guess where you will find the other half of the movie)

- The overall somewhat diversity in this movie. I say that in direct comparison to Hallmark movies, because this movie definitely fits the Hallmark stereotype, even though it’s produced by Netflix, hence the attempt at diversity (hello menorah in the hospital and random gay folks and PoC)

The Not So Good:

- Why did he get the fireplace started that probably hasn’t been cleaned in forever

- How was that piano sounding so good? Mum was a hoarder and I assure you that piano hasn’t been professionally tuned in what? 20 years? Yeah, there’s no way that piano still played a single straight note

- I cannot officially criticise the stereotypes/clichés in a Netflix Hallmark movies, but if I could: goddamnit, they really shoved a lot of those down their viewer’s throats (white shirt in the rain, impromptu jam session, woman choosing the wrong guy, lonely writer, suddenly being alone at a public event, only one bedroom left, father and son reconnecting in an awkward manner, dude randomly showing up at her house and looking up at the window, and so on)

- Dude really needs a leash for his dog

- Why did Dude and father leave Rachel waiting in the cold car for so long? And how did they survive sleeping in a cold af car?

- Who messed up Barrett’s hair and outfits in the second half of the movie?! Choices were made and they were not good choices, at all

The Bad:

- His weird stalking when she accidentally left the connecting door of their hotel rooms ajar. Seriously, wtf

- Dude looking for/meeting up with Rachel’s biological mother?! That looked a lot like overstepping boundaries, what was he trying to achieve anyway?

- We see him meeting her bio mum but not her?! Which makes this extra strange

- I don’t want to make assumptions here, but I feel like the bio mum was miscast looks wise (not acting wise, the acting was great) and I have a thought or two about the process

- Dude showing up at her house on christmas day/eve, despite fucking knowing that she’s still engaged. It might have been cute if she had been single, but she wasn’t. What was he trying to achieve there? Yeah, she cheated on her fiance and they were obviously trying to reconcile, but even if she chose the safe option over the “being happy” option, it wasn’t his place to insert himself into their relationship like that. That’s not cool, guys (gender neutral), so please don’t ever do that. Write a letter, for what it’s worth, but don’t basically stalk an engaged person

- The final parts seemed rushed, mostly because they spent too much time fulfilling clichés, but I wasn’t expecting a cinematic masterpiece anyway

In Conclusion:

It’s a Hallmark movie, only it is not because it’s produced by Netflix. But don’t be fooled, it’s still very much a Hallmark movie. Watch it if you generally like Hallmark movies but are fed up with the overall whiteness and lack of diversity of Hallmark movies. Or watch it if you generally hate Hallmark movies but are willing to watch some kitsch for the holidays (or any other day of the year). Don’t expect too much plot wise but other than that it does have it’s sweet/cute/funny moments and Barrett’s performance is a solid 9/10, but that’s due to the fact that no one can genuinely portray that many clichés without it looking a little, well, cliché. Overall it’s an easy watch and despite hating Christmas and Hallmark movies (I know, I know), I did not have a terrible time watching this, so that probably speaks for itself

[jessmm7]

I was a Mount fan since 2019 but just a few weeks ago (maybe even months) I completely lost interest in him, mainly because I just lost my crush on him which can happen to anyone, that’s just how crushes work. But right now, I also feel like the transfer news and the things about his girlfriend just shows his true colours. I genuinely think he’s a good guy but over the months I feel like he’s just changed as a person, maybe because he is very famous now and have to be more private, which is totally understandable. But that’s also something I want to bring up. When we have a crush on someone, we literally see this person as the most perfect human, like there is nothing wrong when there indeed are always flaws, and now that I’ve lost my crush on Mason, I can see so many things about him that isn’t perfect. I legit used to fight people for criticising him, even the tinies but of criticism boiled my blood, but now I agree with some things without hesitation, and I even criticise him sometimes, that’s maturing and accepting that he isn’t perfect like I used to think he is. Crushes come and go, there will always be factors that help us move on from them too, but I don’t think it’s fair that we sit here and trash talk about people we don’t know personally. We only hear stuff from people online that can easily be made up, so my suggestion is that if people have a problem with Mason and his gf, just don’t bring attention to it, leave it and move on, it’s that simple. Having a crush can be so draining at times, it’s just best if you detach yourself before you get too obsessed and hurt your own self. He don’t know you and we don’t know him. I honestly feel so much better now that I’m crushing in him, it feels like a relief just being away from this (sometimes) crazy fanbase. (Sorry for writing so much)

Of course losing a crush can happen to anybody. There are times when I see Mason and I think ew😂

(hairy feet photo🤢🤢)

I don't agree about the true colours thing, I don't really know what he's done that's bad. But I suppose for me I've never viewed him as perfect, nobody is.

Maybe it's a shock to some of you to see him acting like a normal 24 year old lad, I don't know...

I don't know him obviously, but he seems like a nice guy. I don't think he's the innocent golden boy his team likes to portray him as though 😂

[mottlemoth]

So I’ve been hiding a lot. I’m really sorry. Being back on Tumblr makes me feel like it’s fine to share some of this - I’m sorry if it’s weird to hear - I’m just having a tough time and I need to be honest.

Various things are happening to me in real life at the moment. It’s been one thing after another, and there’s more to come. Usually I turn to fandom for a support structure and an escape from stress, but I���m realising that sense of comfort has been missing from my life for a few weeks now.

I came to OFMD from a small rarepair with a very close and very supportive community. I absolutely wasn’t prepared for the kind of things I’ve experienced in the last few months on Twitter. The OFMD community there has a lot of problems right now, one of the most worrying being a lethal lack of awareness that fan writers are fans. We’re writing for fun, sharing our work for free. But we’re being ripped apart by people who’ve had years of practice at criticising showrunners for creative decisions they don’t approve of. The abuse is largely motivated by jealousy - any author who picks up too much kudos or appears on too many rec lists becomes the next target, and it’s usually cloaked under a false banner of social justice. It’s happening over and over again. It’s transparent and it’s exhausting, and the things being used to justify the abuse are so tenuous that I often can’t believe what my actual eyes are reading. I’ve been accused of misogyny for writing Edward ‘Shoot-The-People-Who-Teased-Me’ Teach as reacting emotionally, therefore “female-coding” him, therefore sexism. I don’t know how to cope in this kind of environment.

I’ve been through endless rounds of coaxing myself to try to relax - to forget about the paranoia and the toxicity, and shut up and get on with writing because I have a duty to finish this fic and everyone’s waiting for the next chapter and if I don’t hurry up and post it then I’ll get Tumblr messages saying “when can we expect the next chapter” and - suddenly I realise, wait. I’m not actually obliged to do any of this.

This is my hobby.

I am 100% allowed to stop doing this at any point I want to.

“But you have a duty to the people who’ve--”

Look, I get that this isn’t something anyone wants to hear, but... no. I don’t. I’m an exhausted thirty-something sitting in her pyjamas after work, having a cry because my hobby somehow turned into a full-time job on top of my already miserable full-time job. AO3 writers don’t have a duty to do what they’re doing. Fanworks are literally a gift of time and energy from a complete stranger. I’d love to be able to ignore the people being abusive towards writers, but I can’t. And, again - this is my hobby. I’m not obliged to ignore the abuse and just get on with the task. If I’m upset, I’m allowed to stop. (Let’s say I joined a knitting club. Let’s say some of the members were routinely vicious and awful to anyone who got “too good” at knitting, and none of the other members ever hit them with any consequences for their behaviour. I don’t have a duty to stick around at Toxic Knitting Club, even if I never finished that pair of socks I started. If the club cares about its own survival, then it needs to make the environment feel safe and welcoming. It can’t just expect people to ignore the nastiness.)

OP, I blanked your name and pfp from this message because I don’t want you to get grief. But I’ve searched for your username in my email inbox, and found that this is the first time you’ve ever spoken to me. You’ve never reached out to chat or be kind or make friends, but you’ve reached out to prod me when you think that I’m being tardy with delivery of your content. Chapters 1 to 43 appeared at least once a week, sometimes twice or even three times a week. Did it cross your mind that maybe there’s a reason why chapter 44 hasn’t dropped yet? Did you think, something must be wrong, maybe I should ask if they’re okay? No, you just came to bang on the vending machine. I’m sorry if this is an uncomfortable lesson to learn, but the writers in your fandom aren’t staff. We’re guests. Tonight, when I get home from work, I have the option to run a long bath, have a cry and play The Sims until I fall asleep, or the option to sit down at my desk and write something for you, even though I might get harassed and bullied for it. You haven’t tipped the scales in the direction you meant to.

I don’t know how to even begin concluding this post.

I’ve been struggling ever since I was dogpiled back in September. I feel very lonely and very tired. Twitter is an awful bloody website and it’s structured around division and argument. I’ve been feeling better since I came back to Tumblr. My breaks at work are now spent scrolling through pretty GIFs or cool meta or funny things about Izzy, rather than drama, and it’s helping. So... I don’t know, OP. Don’t start being like this here. I’m fighting so hard to find reasons to stay in OFMD. Life is rough at the minute, and I want to spend my free time feeling happy and safe with people who see me as a friend, not a vending machine. I’m doing everything a professional writer does, but for no pay, with no protection or support from a publisher, and I’m fitting it around a full-time job. That’s... well, that’s the situation. That’s the situation all your fan writers are in, however well they seem to be handling it. It’d be great if you could reflect on that.

TLDR; this is my hobby, and I work on my hobby when it feels fun.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

[d0llpie]

Hello I love you’re writing so much it brings me my much needed doses of serotonin😁

Could I request a Bokuto x reader where the reader has some tummy chub and is kinda insecure about it but Bokuto like the himbo we all know he is is supportive and tells them they are great the way they are. If you could make the reader female or gn is totally okay too. Thank you so much

I hope you have a wonderful day/night 😁

Bokuto x insecure chubby reader

A/N: Hi love, thank you so much that’s so sweet, i hope you enjoy this, have a good day/night <33

wc: 850

You were nervous to invite bokuto to sleep over, you knew how sweet Bo was but there were so many things that could go wrong and your insecurities were making it harder for you to do it.

Hinata had managed to convince you to ask him, not understanding why you were so worried given that it was Bokuto. You approached him after training and asked him if he wanted to sleep over on Friday night, he was so ecstatic that you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked. You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the gym to go home, hearing bokuto mutter something about cuddles and how cute you were.

Your nerves only grew over the next day waiting for him to come over after practice. You wanted to cuddle with him but you weren’t sure how you’d approach it. If his hand brushed over your stomach you knew you’d freeze up and have to explain to him what was wrong, the last thing you wanted to do. You stood in front of your mirror, criticising yourself, poking at your tummy and gripping places on your body you thought you could lose some weight in.

Before you knew it you were spiralling further into your insecurities and Bokuto would be over any minute. You threw on a hoodie, trying to shake yourself out of that mindset so you could enjoy your time with Bo.

“y/n? hi baby!!” You came into the hallway to see Bokuto walking through the front door “Hi bo” you smiled as he ran up to you, engulfing you in a crushing hug that had you stumbling back. “I’ve got some movies ready in the lounge room, i’ll make us some tea and you can get comfortable” you plastered on the biggest smile you could muster before dashing into the kitchen, not giving Bo a chance to respond. He frowned but entered the lounge room, sitting on the couch and wrapping himself up in a blanket.

You leant against the bench, playing with the mug in your hand trying desperately to clear your head. The fact that you were stuck trying to get rid of your insecurities so you could enjoy being with Bo only made your mood 10 times worse. You took the tea into the living room and sat it down gently. “y/n?” you hummed without looking up at Bo, he inched towards the edge of the couch and took your hands in his making you look at him. He looked conflicted, you rubbed the back of his hands gently “what’s wrong bo?” he huffed, pulling you to sit in his lap “bo?” you giggled, cupping his cheeks. His hands wandered down your sides and your smile dropped “oh i’m sorry baby i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i just thought you might want to cuddle is all, it’s fine if you don’t, we can put the movie on now too if you would like” “Bo.” you placed your hands on his shoulders, stopping him from rambling “i’m sorry, you didn’t do anything i’m just..” you looked into your lap, trying to figure out a way to word this.

“Hinata told me you were nervous, what’s up baby?” you made a mental note to decide whether you should thank Hinata or kill him. “I guess i’ve just been feeling insecure? idk it’s dumb i know but it’s just my tummy and-“ “WHAT” you looked at Bo’s heartbroken face and froze.

He pulled you back onto the couch so you were lying with your back down on the couch and sat himself between your legs, lying his head on your chest. “Baby please don’t be sad :( I hate when you’re sad especially about something i love about you! You’re so perfect for cuddling and soft, i love your body and i want to cuddle!” you laughed at Bo’s outburst, pressing kisses all over his face, “Thank you bo...really” you smiled at him and he moved further down, lying his head on your stomach before pressing play on the movie.

“y/n, would you still love me if i had a tummy?” you looked down at Bokuto “Of course i would!”, you grinned down at him, understanding why he asked before he pressed a kiss on your collarbone, “I would love you even if you looked like a worm” you blushed at how sweet he was being but began laughing at him. “I’ll keep that in mind Bo” he smiled hearing you laugh, glad that were now more comfortable around him and he finally got to cuddle with you. “Y/n? can we cuddle more often?” You slowly ran your fingers through his two-tone hair “Yes baby, we can” you kissed his head as he snuggled further into your chest, squeezing your sides.

You played with his hair until you fell asleep and so he pulled you against his chest and spooned you, resting his hand on your stomach. “Goodnight baby” he kissed the back of your head before drifting to sleep with you in his arms.

[verdantmoontruther]

the anti-bkdk ramble that turned into an anti-internet ramble

i’m not like the biggest or most present bnha fan on here (i’m more about naruto personally) and i know this point has been discussed to death within the more intellectually capable circles of the fanbase, but i think we should really talk about the hypocrisy of people that excuse or ‘forgive’ bakugou’s behaviour for whatever purpose they come up with, whether it be shipping or ‘bc he’s hot’ or whatnot.

the tl;dr of what i want to say: bakugou and midoriya do not like each other. there is no evidence for that in the books or otherwise. it is unwise to view their genuine dislike as unresolved sexual tension because injecting a sexual component into bakugou’s decade-long antipathy makes for a much, much scarier bullying scenario. also, please touch grass and get a hobby outside of media consumption; i make friendship bracelets and photograph graffiti around my town. it’s very fun. take a break from the online world.

first things first: i UNDERSTAND, fully and wholeheartedly, the desire to see a queer enemies-to-lovers relationship happen in mainstream media. i may be young enough to be on the cusp between gen z and millennial, but i’m also old enough to remember when homosexuality was the weird joke paraded out on late night telly to explain a man’s bizarre behaviour, or be the shitty punchline to an equally unfunny joke. i remember feeling young and disgusted, young and scared, young and hopeless when i thought that we would never see anything remotely resembling a healthy gay relationship on tv. i didn’t even think legalised gay marriage is something that would be won in my youth. but you’re going about it the wrong way.

bakugou bullied midoriya for a long time. that is an immutable fact, and a very important aspect of both of their identities. in their childhoods, bakugou cemented midoriya into a victim role by singling him out and tormenting him. it’s important for some of you to understand that you can’t come back from that. whatever relationship they may have in the future will forever be tainted by the fact that, when bakugou knew he had the upper hand physically over midoriya, he chose to ridicule, belittle, and hurt him, and was never told by those around him that he may have been wrong for it.

it bothers me to no end that the people who will recognise how well the bnha universe fits as an allegory to the treatment of disabled people in society - which is, in my opinion, a completely astute and intelligent observation - will fail to see bakugou’s treatment of midoriya in their formative years as not abusive or ableist, but criticise a character because they said something demeaning about the quirkless population. it’s interesting because the allegory only extends to the characters and actions that are easily dealt with (cancelling a minor character for their words is very easy), but as soon as you raise the issue of physically, emotionally, and mentally abusing someone for their disability, it gets wishy washy because that’s their favourite character that we’re accusing of unsavoury behaviours. it begs the question - do you actually give a shit at all?

the reason i raise this is because fiction directly translates to real life. the things an author, screenwriter, or mangaka write about and the perspective they write about it from effect our view of ourselves and other people, especially in an industry aimed at, and mostly consumed by, the youth. that’s why i discussed what i did in the second paragraph - representation is important because it makes people feel more comfortable in their skin. and i can understand why you crave seeing yourself depicted as the hero of a story. but it also means that bad interpretations can weasel their way into the malleable minds of the young people consuming these stories: think about everything jk rowling was cancelled for. her only irish character constantly blowing things up. hook-nosed elves in love with money. werewolves preying on young boys as a metaphor for the aids epidemic.

i can’t blame horikoshi for the way that people infer his writing because there is absolutely no evidence in his writing that bakugou and midoriya harbour romantic feelings for each other, but i do know where this sentiment comes from: you kids are grasping at straws, wanting to make genuinely antagonistic characters into some sort of star-crossed romance because this is your first time being exposed to fighty blowy uppy shounen that doesn’t give a shit about love, and it worries me, because it means you begin romanticising all the wrong behaviours. if i was reading half the shit you guys like about the mythical bkdk dynamic in an actual book, it’d be raising red flags immediately. no communication. possessiveness. jealousy. entitlement. belittling. taking out their anger on each other. i’m concerned for you lot.

some of you aren’t going to like hearing this, but i think the reason we are seeing such a strong insurgence of the romanticisation of such an unhealthy relationship dynamic, apart from representation, is because being bombarded by so many stories and headlines and works in a day due to the internet has desensitised us to a lot of things. you look at a news headline about a bombing or a murder and you don’t feel anything anymore. same thing with fiction: ten years of bullying, when you have nothing from your own personal life to compare it to, doesn’t sound that bad. someone telling you to kill yourself gets brushed off like water off a duck’s back because everyone tells everyone to kts these days. having no friends is normalised because all of us people online are ‘depressed and anxious uwu no fwends’. in order to get a real hit right in the gut you need something that takes the word angst and amplifies it by a scale factor of seven million. in a culture that sensationalises pain and is devoid of empathy, midoriya’s situation is just not enough anymore.

once again idk if any of this made sense. i write what i think and if it comes out like a jumble of random letters then oh well.

[reidyoulikeabook]

12%

Part of Amelia’s 200 follower celebration!

Request: Angst prompt #47 with Spencer (why is it so hard for you to believe me?)

Word count: 1.5k (this got out of hand slightly)

Warnings: Mentions of schizophrenia, canon-typical violence, arguing. Can’t think of anything else! Loosely based off the events of 6x19, if you’re interested!

A/N: I am steadily working through the rest of the 200 follower celebration asks and should have them all up in the next 2 days! Thank you so much to everyone whose sent them, I’ve really enjoyed writing them :) (and feel free to send me more from the prompt list, i’m always open to them!)

i had a request for this same prompt with Emily so if you sent that ask: don’t worry! i have a different idea for it that i’m super excited to write !!!

The case was rough. Ben, the unsub who was suffering with hallucinations, had gone for Spencer’s neck with a knife. Spencer had been trying de-escalation tactics, reassuring Ben that if he put the knife down then everything would be fine. Unfortunately, it seemed he’d heard something else.

He'd lept towards Spencer, knife raised in his hand. You acted on instinct. The bullet left your gun, hitting Ben in the shoulder and knocking him down. Spencer was on him in an instant, pressing his hands over the wound.

“We need an ambulance!”

Hotch had told you you’d made the right choice. If you hadn’t taken the shot, he would have.

So why then, does it feel like you’ve done something so wrong?

Spencer doesn’t speak to you the whole ride back to the station. Hardly acknowledges you as you pack up your belongings, snatches the file you give him and shoves it into his satchel. The others pick up on it, of course, but daren’t say anything. As much as they enjoy lovingly sticking their nose into your business, they know to keep out of your fights.

He doesn’t sit near you on the jet. Instead, he takes a seat at the back, whispering to Morgan in hushed tones. You sit on the couch with Rossi, who does his best to involve you in the card game he’s teaching Seaver.

Once you’re back at the BAU, Spencer has to speak to you.

“Are you coming home with me?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“Are you actually planning on speaking to me anytime soon?”

“Once we’re home.”

His ominous tone stokes the anxiety in your chest. Nodding, you wipe your clammy palms on the side of your trousers. It doesn’t sound good. He’s never used that kind of tone with you before, no, you fight clean. None of your fights ever devolve into angry shouting, there’s such an emphasis on communication that you’re realising now that maybe anger on him doesn’t look the same as on everyone else. Anger on Spencer looks cold.

The car ride back is tense. You try to put some music on, just the radio, to alleviate some of the thick tension. Spencer switches it off immediately.

You squirm, a little uncomfortable in your seat. Feeling Spencer’s gaze on you, you wonder if he’ll say anything. Then he looks away again, pretending to spot something out of the window. Cold.

***

You’re hardly through the door, his satchel not even hung over the back of the dining room chair before the words are out of your mouth.

“Are you mad about Ben?”

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, _____, I’m mad about Ben.”

“Why?”

“You shot him.”

“He was going for your neck, I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I was trying to calm him down.”

“His hallucinations were clearly in control of that situation. Not you. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to be able to see that.”

“I could have calmed him down.”

“No you couldn’t, Spencer! Just because you know how to deal with your mother doesn’t mean you know how to deal with every unsub we see who has hallucinations.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. They’re the only ones you’ve said that get a reaction from him though, his teeth sink into his lower lip and he shakes his head, as if amused. He’s clearly not.

“Don’t speak to me about my mom.”

“It’s relevant. Why the hell else would you have taken that case so personally? You were distracted by thinking about your mom and you were not thinking responsibly. You were acting recklessly because of your own personal vendetta. You put your gun down Spencer, you stepped towards him, you didn’t know if any of what you were doing was working. I’m not trying to undermine what you’re capable of, but you got too close today. You took a risk that I don’t think you’d have taken with any other unsub.”

“He’s not like the other unsubs,” He snaps, his voice full of venom.

“I’m not saying he is,” You say, “This wasn’t his fault. He’s sick and he needs help. I’m not blaming him. I’m criticising your judgement.”

“Yeah, you are criticising my judgement.”

You raise your eyebrows, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

"If it had been Morgan, or Hotch, or Rossi you would have thought about it before shooting. But no, because it’s me you thought I needed the protection.”

“So that’s what you think is it? I overstepped because I don’t have faith in you or your ability to protect yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Emily died a month ago, Spencer. A month ago, one of my best friends died on a case she ran off to handle alone. Forgive me for not wanting my boyfriend to be next,” You spit, throwing your coat over the back of the couch and storming towards the bedroom, “Forgive me for not wanting you to surrender your life to every unsub you feel sorry for.”

“What if it was me?” He asks, his voice breaking slightly, “What if that had been me?”

You turn around, throwing him a quizzical glance. His arms are folded defensively across his chest, gaze directed at the floor.

“What?”

“What if I was Ben? Would you have shot me?”

“Spencer what-”

“Schizophrenia is genetic. That could just as easily be me a year from now. I’ve been having those headaches that none of the doctors can figure out. This could be the start. So what if that had been me? Would you shoot me?”

“No,” You take a step towards him, hurt searing in your chest as he takes one back, “No, Spencer, of course I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You hurt him.”

“Spencer, I would never hurt you.”

“Right.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe me?”

“Because I just watched you shoot a guy who was sick! He was sick ____, he didn’t want to hurt anybody!”

“He killed four people Spencer! He had a knife to two kids throats when we came in! He tried to kill you! I’m not saying it was his fault but you can’t make out like he was innocent, or like he wasn’t a threat in that situation. He needed help. He was dangerous to himself and other people.”

“What if I was?”

“What?”

“That’s why it’s so hard to believe you,” His voice cracks, “What if I was a threat in that situation?”

“You said it yourself,” You say, stepping towards him again, “That there are a lot of different types of schizophrenia. Only around 12% of people who develop it actually commit any kind of violent crime.”

“Why do you know that?”

Your eyes lock, and a lump forms in your throat. Fuck.

“I looked up some things about schizophrenia.”

He curls into himself tighter, his knuckles white from how tightly they’re balled up under his armpits. The revelation seems to physically wound him. Realisation settling over his face that this was something you’d thought about. A possibility you’d considered. Somehow it makes him feel sick. The sturdy back of the front door is the only thing keeping him upright.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get it Spence,” You try, “You’re 29. It usually hits people in their early 20′s. You’re past the point of being able to get it.”

You know he knows all this. It’s useless information, but the silence is too much to bare, the hurt in his eyes is too much to bare. You open your mouth again to speak, to try to explain, to try to tell him that you’d only done it so you’d know how to help him if the time ever came. That all you wanted was to love and support him, that no matter what happened you’d always be there to get through it together. You’ve told him so many times before and somehow he still doesn’t seem to believe you.

“What if I was going to hurt Morgan?” His voice cuts through your thoughts.

“What?”

“You said you’d never shoot me. What about if I was going to hurt someone you cared about? What if it was Morgan?”

“I would never hurt you.”

“Obviously you don’t believe I can promise you the same.”

“Spencer it’s not like that.”

“You looked it up! You were researching the statistics! It’s obviously something that’s crossed your mind and we saw today that you protect the people you love from whatever you think is dangerous. And what’s dangerous could be me. You know that.”

The look on his face is heartbreaking. The fear in his eyes, the way his cheeks pull as he sucks on them, trying to keep in the tears. He’s so afraid of himself. So afraid of what he could become.

“Spencer I don’t believe you could ever be dangerous, I don’t know how you think I could ever think that, I-”

“Maybe I should go,” He says, cutting you off.

“Spencer.”

Before you can finish the thought, he’s yanking the door open, disappearing through it. You know better than to go after him while he’s like this, better than to disturb him when it’s clear he needs time. Sitting down on the couch, you fold your knees up against your chest. Waiting for him to come back so you can explain to him again how much you love him, how you could never be afraid, how you’re by his side through it all.

As the tears spill down your face, you start to wonder how many times you’ve had this exact same fight. How many times he’s refused to believe you. How he constantly pushes you away out of his own fear about himself. And then, as the sobs wrack your chest, you wonder: how many more times can I do this?

[girlactionfigure]

Why I’m Leaving Mumford & Sons

I loved those first tours. Bouncing off a sweaty stage in an Edinburgh catacomb we then had to get to a gig in Camden by lunch the next day. We couldn’t fit all four of us and Ted’s double-bass into the VW Polo. I think it was Ben who drew the short-straw and had to follow by train with his keyboard. I remember blitzing it down the M6 through the night, the lads asleep beside me. We made it but my voice sadly didn’t, completely shot by exhaustion, I had to mime my harmonies. Being in Mumford & Sons was exhilarating.

Every gig was its own adventure. Every gig its own story. Be it odysseys through the Scottish Islands, or soapbox shows in Soho. Where would we sleep that night? Hostels in Fort William, pub floors in Ipswich, even the Travelodge in Carlisle maintains a sort of charm in my mind. We saw the country and then, as things miraculously grew, the world. All the while doing what we loved. Music. And not just any music. These songs meant something. They felt important to me. Songs with the message of hope and love. I was surrounded by three supremely talented song-writers and Marcus, our singer with a one-in-a-million voice. A voice that can compel both a field of 80,000 and the intimacy of a front room. Fast-forward ten years and we were playing those same songs every night in arenas, flying first-class, staying in luxury hotels and being paid handsomely to do so. I was a lucky boy.

On stage, to my left Ted, a roaring bear, with his double-bass flying high above him. To my right Ben, with his unparalleled passion for music, pounding at the keys. And Marcus leading us with all the might of a hurricane or all the tenderness of a breeze, depending on what the song demanded. What a blessing it was to be so close to such talent as theirs. It will be with immense pride that I look back at my time with Mumford & Sons. A legacy of songs that I believe will stand the test of ages. What we’ve achieved together has vastly exceeded the wildest fantasies of this shitkicker from Mortlake.

Who in their right mind would willingly walk away from this?

It turns out I would. And as you might imagine it’s been no easy decision.

At the beginning of March I tweeted to American journalist Andy Ngo, author of the New York Times Bestseller, Unmasked. “Congratulations @MrAndyNgo. Finally had the time to read your important book. You’re a brave man”. Posting about books had been a theme of my social-media throughout the pandemic. I believed this tweet to be as innocuous as the others. How wrong I turned out to be.

Over the course of 24 hours it was trending with tens of thousands of angry retweets and comments. I failed to foresee that my commenting on a book critical of the Far-Left could be interpreted as approval of the equally abhorrent Far-Right.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Thirteen members of my family were murdered in the concentration camps of the Holocaust. My Grandma, unlike her cousins, aunts and uncles, survived. She and I were close. My family knows the evils of fascism painfully well. To say the least. To call me “fascist” was ludicrous beyond belief.

I’ve had plenty of abuse over the years. I’m a banjo player after all. But this was another level. And, owing to our association, my friends, my bandmates, were getting it too. It took me more than a moment to understand how distressing this was for them.

Despite being four individuals we were, in the eyes of the public, a unity. Furthermore it’s our singer’s name on the tin. That name was being dragged through some pretty ugly accusations, as a result of my tweet. The distress brought to them and their families that weekend I regret very much. I remain sincerely sorry for that. Unintentionally, I had pulled them into a divisive and totemic issue.

Emotions were high. Despite pressure to nix me they invited me to continue with the band. That took courage, particularly in the age of so called “cancel culture”. I made an apology and agreed to take a temporary step back.

Rather predictably another viral mob came after me, this time for the sin of apologising. Then followed libellous articles calling me “right-wing” and such. Though there’s nothing wrong with being conservative, when forced to politically label myself I flutter between “centrist”, “liberal” or the more honest “bit this, bit that”. Being labeled erroneously just goes to show how binary political discourse has become. I had criticised the “Left”, so I must be the “Right”, or so their logic goes.

Why did I apologise?

“Rub your eyes and purify your heart — and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well.” — Aleksander Solzhenitsyn once wrote. In the mania of the moment I was desperate to protect my bandmates. The hornets’ nest that I had unwittingly hit had unleashed a black-hearted swarm on them and their families. I didn’t want them to suffer for my actions, they were my priority.

Secondly, I was sincerely open to the fact that maybe I did not know something about the author or his work. “Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak,” Churchill once said, “courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen”. And so I listened.

I have spent much time reflecting, reading and listening. The truth is that my commenting on a book that documents the extreme Far-Left and their activities is in no way an endorsement of the equally repugnant Far-Right. The truth is that reporting on extremism at the great risk of endangering oneself is unquestionably brave. I also feel that my previous apology in a small way participates in the lie that such extremism does not exist, or worse, is a force for good.

So why leave the band?

On the eve of his leaving to the West, Solzhenitsyn published an essay titled ‘Live Not By Lies’. I have read it many times now since the incident at the start of March. It still profoundly stirs me.

“And he who is not sufficiently courageous to defend his soul — don’t let him be proud of his ‘progressive’ views, and don’t let him boast that he is an academician or a people’s artist, a distinguished figure or a general. Let him say to himself: I am a part of the herd and a coward. It’s all the same to me as long as I’m fed and kept warm.”

For me to speak about what I’ve learnt to be such a controversial issue will inevitably bring my bandmates more trouble. My love, loyalty and accountability to them cannot permit that. I could remain and continue to self-censor but it will erode my sense of integrity. Gnaw my conscience. I’ve already felt that beginning.

The only way forward for me is to leave the band. I hope in distancing myself from them I am able to speak my mind without them suffering the consequences. I leave with love in my heart and I wish those three boys nothing but the best. I have no doubt that their stars will shine long into the future. I will continue my work with Hong Kong Link Up and I look forward to new creative projects as well as speaking and writing on a variety of issues, challenging as they may be.

Winston Marshall