#fanfiction techncially

[jpitha]

The Bedrock Dispatch

And now for something completely different. This was another writing game/contest thing. I was given the theme and the "flash rule" a rule created on the spot that I needed to include in my story. Since the theme was Myths of the Near Stone age and I needed to include Dinosaurs, I was drawn to the Flintstones which I think technically makes this fanfiction? Neat. Anyway, it's completely different to what I normally write.

Theme: Myths of the Near Stone Age Flash Rule: Must have Stampeding Dinosaurs. 1311 words.

****

The housewife grabbed the vacuum cleaner and began to run it back and forth across the carpet in the living room. Its legs tied to a small wooden cart, the pygmy mammoth was forced to use its trunk to suck up the dust and dirt in the small, stylish living room.

Job complete, she put it into the closet with the other appliances. Only after the door was closed did the tiny mammoth cry.

Chores finished, she met her neighbor for drinks, cigarettes, and a shopping trip into town. The clothes washer had died; it had choked on a sock. How was she to know that it could choke on socks? The manual didn’t say anything about that. Her husband threw the dead washer out with the trash that morning and she needed to buy another. Her annoyance over the washer’s death was tempered by the excitement of another shopping trip with her friend.

****

The foreman stood at the edge of the quarry. He watched the animals place massive stones in their mouths, lift them, and then swing them over the edge of the quarry, letting the boulders drop with a heavy thud. Their teeth long ago ground away to painful nubs, the brontosauruses lifted and carried stones while people strapped in little cabins on their back used winches to help, and whips when the animals were too tired to lift.

The crane in the back - number thirty-nine - looked rough. Foam collected on the edges of its mouth and its head would shake as it tried to lift even small stones. The operator fought with the winch and when that failed, used the whip. The foreman frowned and stubbed out his cigarette on the ground in front of him. He was going to have to kill it tonight and get another. He lamented the loss in productivity. It was necessary though. The quarry owner had decreed that production would not slip this month. While he cast his eyes to the other animals in the quarry, a bird tied to a perch a foot above his head watched the sun nervously. He shook silently in fear, but the foreman didn’t notice.

Soon, it was the end of the day. The foreman, watching a sundial on his wrist, pulled hard on the tailfeathers of the bird above him. The bird’s scream of pain signaled the end of the day. A man in the quarry shouted in joy and slid down the tail of his brontosaurus and ran to his car, the animal forgotten or ignored. Someone else would take care of it. If they didn’t? There were plenty of brontosauruses around. They’d just get another.

He made his way home, walked into the house, and kissed his wife as she met him at the door. She handed him a drink and a cigarette. As he passed through the kitchen, he finished his drink and poured another from the iced pitcher on the counter. He glanced at the empty spot in the kitchen where the washer was supposed to be and frowned. He made his way to his backyard and saw his friend and neighbor. “Another beautiful day, eh friend?” He made his way to a comfortable chair under a tree, near the low fence.

“You said it, Fred. Another day in paradise.” The neighbor leaned on his fence. “Hey, I heard that your clothes washer died, did your wife manage all right today?”

Fred took a drag on his cigarette and frowned. “Darned thing choked on a sock; can you believe it? A washer that can’t wash socks. I tossed it with the trash and Wilma went into town and bought another. Probably thirty other things to go with it too.” Fred took a sip of his cocktail and finished his cigarette. He lit another automatically. “Barn, how do you do it? Betty doesn’t seem to run through your paycheck before you even earn it. I feel like I’m paid on Thursday and broke by Sunday.”

Barney hopped the low fence, not spilling his drink or dropping his cigarette and joined Fred at another chair in the yard. “I gotta tell you Fred, the secret is to set some aside before you hand it over. Give her half, you take half. Keep it in the bank, stuff it in your sock drawer, whatever it takes.” Barney sipped his cocktail, a Bourbon old fashioned. “It’s just how they are. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

While Fred and Barney talked, Fred’s lawn mower started screaming. The howling of the mower was loud even though it was in the shed. Fred and Barney got up slowly and slightly unsteadily and made their way over to his shed. As he opened it, he saw the mower, still tied to the little cart, screaming and crying. Its mouth was red and inflamed and blood poured from multiple wounds on its legs. It looked like the mower was trying to bite their legs off. Fred reached down to touch the mower’s legs and it snapped at him. Fred yanked his hand back.

“Did you see that? It tried to bite me!” Fred tipped his rocks glass back and finished his drink, a tom collins. The ice clinked.

Barney sighed and shook his head. “Just goes to show you, things aren’t like they were when we were younger. Once it’s dead, we’ll head to Gimblestones and pick up a new one. Folks have to go further and further out to find new appliances and they never last as long as they used to.” He patted his friend on the back. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll fix it in the morning.”

Fred stared at the lawn mower.

At the dying animal.

At the lawn mower.

At the dying animal.

“No.” Fred shook his head. “This isn’t right, Barn. It’s a living thing. Look at it, it’s screaming. I have to help it.” He reached for the mower again.

Barney put his hand on Fred’s arm, stopping him. “Fred. This is the way of things. This is how things are. This-“ He pointed at the mower. “-is how we have all this.” Barney gestures behind him towards suburbia, towards the rows of small houses with manicured lawns. “Your mower? Your washer? Those are the price we pay for progress.” He let go of Fred’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go have another drink. After, we can head to the lodge. By the morning it’ll be gone, and we can go shopping and get another.”

Fred looked at the mower.

At the dying animal.

At the mower.

He turned away from the mower and looked at Barney. “You’re right Barn. Let’s go get a drink and head out. This is a tomorrow problem.”

Fred closed the door to the shed and walked back inside.

****

The young man stood outside the city. He watched a herd of Brontosaurus thunder across the plain. His partner had spooked them and as expected, they stampeded. Soon they would tire, and he could swoop in. If he was able to capture four of them alive, they could be repurposed in town, and he would make enough money to support his brothers and sisters for another month. He watched them carefully. The quarry. The quarry would buy them. His stomach growled. He had skipped breakfast and lunch to save money. One meal a day was enough, he told himself.

There. Those four. Two adults and two calves lagged behind the rest. He had hoped for four adults, but this was better. He’d get half again more for the calves. They lived longer, took to the yoke better, lasted longer. He kicked his heels on the ground and the jeep took off. Steering towards the animals, he readied his tranquilizer gun and leaned out the window. Today was turning out to be a good day after all.

****

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Information

I am bored and so decided to go write a little thing on this as I had an idea again.

First Drabble over here. original prompt by @spotaus

Prev Drabble

Next Drabble in chronological order here

This one is around the time after the gang met back up again to return to Nightmare but found the castle starting to collapse. about a week after they left.

Also, apology in advance. I slightly re-did the story of Dream and Nightmare. Just to fit it me more. The original story you can find with Jokublog as their original creator.

Warning, unbeta'ed and unedited as always lmao

-----

Dust sighs as he glances around the empty and dark halls. The whole castle so far had been empty and deserted.

Because they had deserted him. They had betrayed him. They had-

Dust shakes the thoughts and familiar voice out of his skull. No time. They need to find somekind of clue.

Dust looks from side to side as he thinks. The four of them had searched the bottom floor together but found nothing. Horror had split up to search the forest and gardens. Cross went to search all storage rooms. Killer had went to search the basement and cellar.

Which left the normal rooms for Dust to search.

And he had found nothing. Dust groans as he slides to the ground. Where he just sits for a moment.

It didn't make sense. Because Dust had noticed stuff being gone from their rooms. Dust know one of his old hoodies disappeared but it would be the first time they had a laundry mishap. But the other rooms it felt like stuff had been missing.

But there were no signs of breakins or anything. Nothing that suggested that anyone had been here. Which probably won't be for long.

With how difficult it had been for them to even get back here... It is obvious that the magic keeping everything together and hidden is failing.

It is a matter of time before the universe is no longer hidden and then the Stars will come and mess things up even more.

Which... Nightmare most likely realised. And so he left...

Dust groans as he covers his face and thinks. Fuck. They didn't even know what was affecting boss. What had been causing him to grow weaker and younger. To cause him to lose his powers.

And they FUCKING left! Like fucking assholes and ungrateful little shits!

No wonder Nightmare decided to leave as soon as he realised this universe was a lost cause.

Dust sighs as he looks around the hall before his sight stops at one last door. The door he hadn't dared to enter.

It is stupid.

It isn't like they had been good followers before. With them just abandoning the person who had saved them from their own dying AUs as soon as he lost power.

Yet it felt disrespectful to just enter his room.

Dust shakes his skull again and gets up. He marches over to the door and pauses. He raises his hand and knocks.

No answer.

Dust waits for a moment before knocking again, a tiny bit louder.

Still no answer. Dust still waits before trying the door. He isn't sure if he wants it too open or be locked.

The door opens.

Dust stays still for a moment before pushing the door fully open. The room is dark and empty nad Dust makes sure to check all hiding places.

But still nothing.

Dust sighs before aglimmer of silver catches his eye. He tilts his skull and walks over to the bed. On it lays a shining silver band. Dust hums as he studies it and rubs some of the old dust and grim off of it. only to reveal a crescent moon.

Dust stares at it for a long time. It... it kinda looks like the crown simular to Dream's but it is so much smaller. It looks so much more fragile and dull. Dust takes a seat on the bed as he rubs the soft metal. It is clearly old. Very old. But it seems cared for.

Why... Why would he leave it?

Dust looks around the room again and stops to stare at one of the bedside tables. The drawer isn't completely shut. He pulls it over and immediantly sees that a false bottom has been removed and not bother to be put back. Dust looks at the crown and the drawer before testing it out.

The crown fits perfectly in the drawer and once shut you wouldn't even see it unless you knew it was there. He removes the crown again before turning quickly to the other bedside table. Dust dive crawls over the bed and reaches the other side.

He opens the drawer and removes all the pens and papers and notes from it. It seems to be notes on possible universes for them to raid and notes on what to pick up from where. Small 'to do' lists. The drawer is soon empty and he feels around it.

Click.

Another false bottom pops open and Dust grins as the removes it. Only for the grin to fall as all he can see is an old fairytale book. Dust puts the drawer piece to the side and takes out the book.

It is old. Older than any of Nightmare's books in his library. Older than the castle now looks. Even broken and falling apart.

Dust sits back upright and crosses his legs as he lays the book in his lap. The cover shows a large tree with a female like figure next to it. Golden letters at the top spell out DreamTale.

Dust freezes before he quickly opens the picture book and starts reading.

It is like a childrens tale. A fairytale.

A young powerful woman by the name of Nim. The keeper of emotions who spreads them across the multiverse. Who prefers her privacy. Positive and negative send out as equals and spread where there is a need.

A man. A mortal. Bold and brass. Greedy for things not his. Goes to her and demands a power he has no right to. A fight happens and Nim wins. But the cost is high.

She has been hurt. Hurt by the mortal who she had to kill. The mortal who forced her to bloody her hands. Make her guilty of a crime she never wanted to commit. With her last power she tries to create a way to continue. A way to exist. Before her, two spirts appear.

One is a golden light made of hope and dreams. positivity shines out as the spirit seems happy already. Nim smiles at them and names them Dream. As the little spirit already seems to be a dreamer and a being of hope. A name fitting for the small spirit.

A second spirit, she hadn't expected, takes form moments after the first and Nim pauses. She ends up naming this one Nightmare, only because they seem to be the oposite of Dream in ever way with their dimmer light and purple colour.

Dust stops and frowns "Wow lady. Talk about clear favouritism with your children." Dust frowns as he traces the picture of two small balls of light in the hands of the woman, Nim.

He shakes his skull and continues reading. For how old the book looks it isn't that long.

Nim felt her time nearing its end and searches the multiverse for a vessel to fit her children. Something that can withstand their magic and beings.

Many failures as he desperation hightens and hightens. Until she comes across a skeleton who just shines out with briliant positivity. She doesn't think and uses the last of her powers to recreate that form for her children.

Nim becomes one with her tree as her children begin to move their new bodies. Young and new to the world. Only been made days before. But they have one another and the tree.

Dust glares "Are you kidding me? You give them just... bodies which clearly only fit one of your sons?! What the hell lady?" Dust takes a deep breath before continuing to read. Why doesn't the multiverse know this? Most of their stories are known across it by now.

Neither Dream nor Nightmare know what to do. Both are young and only just been born. Luckily their mother is still with them to guide them. She warns them away from mortals and tells her children it is now their duty to protect her and her tree. But most important the apples that grow from it.

The golden and purple apples. The golden apples will cure any illness and body harm. While the purple apples will heal any magical illness and mental harm.

Nim tells them again and these apples can not be given away as they also hold the key to keeping the multiverse in balance concerning positivity and negativity. That Dream can only touch and pick the golden apples and Nightmare can only touch and pick the purple ones.

But that they should never eat one. Never.

Both the children look up at their mother before nodding. They promise they will do their job and duty and protect her and her apples.

Dust huffs "Wow. Child labor now lady? You are so getting the mother of the year award." he continues reading.

Time passes as Dream and Nightmare stay with the tree. The live and sleep under it and relax near it. That is until the settlers come and people make a village nearby. Nim reminds them again that mortals are not to be trusted.

Dream however wishes to meet them. See who they are and make friends. Nightmare tries to convince his twin to stay near the tree. They job is to guard it and make sure no one tries to take the apples. Dream reassures Nightmare that he can do that by himself before going down to the village.

The villagers are quick to adore Dream. It is no surprise after all. Dream radiates an aura that makes those around him happy and he is happy to help. He goes to the village daily to help around and make friends.

Nightmare however is more distrustful. He remains near the tree and makes sure no one tries to take from it. The villagers are unhappy wiht him. How dare he keep the treasures of the tree to himself. He tries to explain he can't give them the apples but the villagers are quick to leave.

Dream reinforces the rule that no one can be given an apple and the villagers seem to accept this easier.

It continues on. The village keeps expanding quickly and Nightmare shares his worry that they will eventually hurt their tree and mother. Dream nods and promises his brother he will talk with the villagers.

The villagers do not stop expanding but instead gift Dream a large cape with his symbol of the sun on it. To wrap around the tree to reinforce it is special and no one is allowed to cut it.

Nightmare and Dream happily work together to secure it around the tree.

As Dream grows more and more loved by all those around him Nightmare grows more distrusted and shunned. The villagers agree him to be a bad omen and if something bad happens it must be his fault. After all, Dream is the one who helps them and makes them happy. That must mean that Nightmare is the source of what is bad.

Nightmare tries to explain this isn't the case but no one listens. He tries to explain to Dream what the villagers say but Dream just tells him to spend more time with them and get to know them.

Words change into actions. But Nightmare stays quiet. It is no use. And he doesn't wish to make his brother sad.

Wounds and broken bones are eaisly hidden by long sleeves and excuses are easy to make up. Nightmare doens't like lying but no one beleives his truths anyway. His mother reminds him that mortals are not to be trusted but try to keep Dream happy.

It all comes down to one faithful day. Nightmare begs his brother to stay with the tree but Dream had been promised a nice cup of tea from one of his friends.

Dream promises Nightmare he will return quickly after the tea.

Dream drinks it and feels sleepy soon after.

As Dream rests the villagers band together to take what they are owned. After all. They have lived her for so long and that terrible Nightmare refused to share the apples and forbid Dream from sharing them as well.

Nightmare sees them coming and reminds them again. He isn't allowed to give them the apples. As he had reminded them for the last six years of his short life-

"Six?!" Dust stares at the word. Soul beating fast. Six. They had been six. Nightmare had been six! Those... those disgusting creatures saw a babybones. a six year old and younger before that. and decided he was a horrible creature?

Dust has to take deep breaths to calm his racing soul and thundering magic. It is no use. Contain it for now. Read. Learn. Plan. Then act.

Dust quickly finds the spot where he had left off.

As he had reminded them for the last six years of his short life. He isn't allowed to share the golden apples. He can give them a purple apple-

But as soon as he offers the villagers grow more angry. How dare he try and hurt them with those harmful apples?! The apples that no doubt will cause harm and poison them!?

Nightmare was confused and unsure what to say. None of the apples cause harm. They all have ways to help someone in their own way. They just also help the multiverse as a whole. Nightmare steels his nerves and hides his fear as he repeats what he alwyas said 'I can't pick the golden apples for you. I am not allowed. Please leave.' after which he turns and returns towards the tree.

This is when a village grabs their chance. They grab a large rock and bring it down on Nightmare's skull.

It caves nad Nightmare falls down. His head hurts and he can't seen. His soul cries out for his twin. Brother. Brother where are you? Why aren't you back. You promised. You promised me.

Nightmare watches as the villagers near the tree. His mother asking and begging him to help her. That the villagers are killing her and that Nightmare needs to do something to defend her.

Nightmare doens't know what to do. he is afraid. He will die. an apple falls near him. a golden one. and in desperation he grabs it.

The golden apple's colour changes from the beautiful gold to a sickly black. it drips and shimmers. it smells sour and feels wrong. But Nightmare is afraid. He doesn't want to die. and selfishly. Eats the apple.

Dust glares "Selfish?! Selfish?!" he seethes as he looks away from the words and back to the drawing. It looks like a pencil drawing and Dust feels slightly ill. because most of his skull is done in the drawing. the crown broken and dented next to him as the rock caused most of the tiny skull to break. his whole right side is done until just above the mouth. the broken broken edge continues right over the nose bridge and just barely misses the left socket before going all the way around.

The top of his skull had been gone.

Those... They... a six year old. a babybones.

Dust's sockets find the next line and continues on.

Once he starts to eat he can't stop. As Nightmare's own negative emotions and being had infected the pure positivity that the apples were made of. As Nightmare ate the apple all of his own negative emotions came back to him. all the pain he had felt. all the anger, sadness, loneliness and betrayal. All of it came to him and it covered him.

Selfishly, Nightmare felt safe for the first time in a while. uncaring that the very thing protecting him. Would become the undoing of everyone.

Instead of just acceptance Nightmare chose the path of destruction. Once he ate one apple he could not stop himself. He ate and ate and ate.

This is when Dream wakes up. To screams on the couch of his dear friend. He looks outside and sees the tree on fire. He rushes outside and runs towards their hill. towards his brother and mother.

Only to see the damage his brother had caused-

"Are you kidding me?!" Dust glares "It wasn't his fucking fault! Why!? How!? Why faulting him when all he did was try to finally protect himself?! To finally fight back against the abuse?! To... to... fight... the fate this stupid multiverse gave him and... and..."

To... break out of his prison... to escape...

No wonder Nightmare grabbed all of them... No wonder he freed them... and what did they do? They left him alone when he needed help.

Dust shakes and ignores the fact his own view is getting misty.

Only to see the damage his brother had caused. Dream has shocked. He had always defended his brother when the villages were rude about him. Always said that his brother was jsut shy and needed patience. only for his brother to do the very thing the villagers had said he would. That Nightmare would destroy them all.

Dream stood frozen at the edge of the field. The hill covered in the dead and blooding bodies by the cut down form of his dying mother. Dream couldn't hear any words in their mother's panicked and pained screaming.

He runs forwards and reaches for her. A hand touches his shoulder and Dream turns only to be meet with a horrifying image of a black melting creature. In his panic he strikes out and hits the being in the face.

The creature takes a few steps back before raises a hand to touch the spot where he had been hit. Dream looks up afraid before his soul gives a panicked pulse. Finally seeing just who it was and who he accidentally hit in his panic.

Dust huffs "Oh yeah. excuse all of his actions because he is afraid yet punish Nightmare for it. Real good story telling there narator."

Nightmare, now corrupted, pauses before turning back to the tree that had been cut down, their dying mother. And pulls off another apple before he eats it as he stares at his brother 'Well look at that. The betrayer finally showed up. Had enough of leaving your brother to deal with everything alone? With the pain on his own? Wanted to hurt him yourself I see.'

Dream shakes as he holds out a hand 'Nightmare. Nightmare please. stop this. this isn't you.'

Nightmare tilts his skull at his brother. negativity dripping of his form. No longer hurting from physical wounds. all that burns through him is rage. Dream had left him. Dream had never been there for him. Ngihtmare smirks. 'You finally decided to see what your brother is doing? What is wrong? Wanted to make sure your dear friends had time to hurt him first? As always? Because he deserved it?'

Dream shakes 'I don't understand... why...' something hits his foot. Dream looks down and sees another apple. another golden apple. He reaches for it and picks it up. Unlike with Nightmare it doesn't get corrupted. Dream's being is perfect for the positivity and the healing it provides.

Nightmare eyes the apple before looking at Dream 'Give me that.'

Dream shakes his skull and hugs the apply close. Only for his soul to absorb the positivity. Nightmare glares but ends up laughing loudly. Dream takes a few steps back but Nightmare just smirks 'Fitting. Even when your own brother is dying you will defend those stupid villagers first.'

Dream shakes as the apple is now part of him and part of his soul 'Dying? Nighty... please i don't understand.'

Nightmare doesn't react as he turns towards the village, where more ligths are on 'That is because you never listened.' and Nightmare left towards the village. To hurt those.

Dream tried to follow but the negativity around him made him weak. The negativity his brother caused and powered made him lose his powers. With shock he realised that he was turning to stone. Dream tried to reach for his brother. To call for him.

But nobody came.

It isn't until many many years later that Dream breaks free of his stone prison. One of his old villagers friends helps him out fo the stone and tells him all abuot how Nightmare had destroyed everything in a fit of jealous rage.

Dream shakes and says it must be something else. that Ngihty would never. He begs that it must have been the apple. That eating the apple corrupted him. That the corruption must have destroyed him and taken over and done all those terrible things.

His friend asks him what he plans to do now.

Dream thinks before deciding that he will find a way to fix the corruption. the cure Nightmare and fix all the wrongdoings he has done.

The years that follow Dream grows into a formiddable warrior of light and hope. Someone who holds the care for everyone in his soul and meant to battle the darkness. Dream promises himself that he will save his brother from the corruption and makes sure everyone has their chance for a happy future.

The end

Dust stares at it. What about the balance? What about the fact that Nim clearly set one up for success and the other for failure.

What about the fact that Nightmare had been six and had been abused for years on end until that tiny six your old broke under the pressure.

That that same corruption everyone feared was the one thing keeping him safe and giving him power?

Dust stares at the pages for a long time. Things starting to shift around in his mind as a clearer picture starts to form.

"Dusty? Are you here? Found anything?"

Dust traces the crown and feels a small dent and finds the fixed cracks.

All this time he had been working on the balance and trying to right his own wrongs. That had never been wrongs, at least not in Dust's opinion. The wrongs a desperate child made o finally feel safe.

And the very multiverse and fate decided to punish him for it.

Dust's grip tightens on the crown. And they had abandoned him. As soon as his powers started to leave. No doubt the magic of the apples reaching their limits. As soon as Nightmare started to return to his original form. They abandoned him.

Nightmare is somewhere in the multiverse. As the original version of himself. the version he was before he ate the apples. six years old and probably hurt.

Woudl he even have his memories?

"Dust?"

Dust looks up from the book and sees three familiar faces in the doorway. Cross frowns as he takes a few steps closer "You are... crying."

Dust doens't bother to fix it as he feels the book "Nightmare... Nightmare was never an adult."

Shock as Killer is suddenly by his side "Waht the fuck do you mean?"

Dust just hands both the book and crown over as he speaks "He was suposed to be six." he nods at the book "See that name? Notice any specific pattern?"

Killer stares "Dreamtale-" he stops and stares at them as he points from person to person "Dusttale, Dust. Horrortale, Horror. X-tale, Cross." Killer stops and stares down "Dreamtale..."

Dust nods "I don't think... I don't think Nightmare was ever originally meant to leave his story."

Killer opens the book and starts reading. Dust sees Horror and Cross join him as well. That is okay. Dust needs a moment.

They are going to have to find him before Nightmare finishes referting back to his real age. Dust does not want to know if those wounds that he had had would remain.

----

First. Prev. Next.

[ask-pageofbreath]

This ask blog takes place on Earth C, centering around Tavros. Obviously. She is a lesser god living in the middle of nowhere with her hivemate, and her main contact with other people is the transmission system, a one-way communication system from you (as in, anyone who wishes to send an ask to this blog) to her. As of writing this it only takes commands, which function sort of like an exile station/early Homestuck in general, although soon it will also take more 'standard' asks where she can be talked to directly. The timeline is technically canon compliant, but for Tavros to be alive again in the first place we have to start pulling shit out of nowhere, so whatever. I call this an 'ask blog' because that's what it is but I'm also trying to tell the vague outline of a story here -- ill be selective with the asks, don't take offense if yours ends up being deleted, I'm picky. I just like writing Tavros and explaining lore I made up. All characters are accounted for, not just Tavros, although she will stay the main focus even if i decide to introduce the others later. This takes place in the same timeline but sometime after Nowhere Else To Go, a fanfiction I'm writing. Techncially, multiple parts of this blog will contain spoilers for it because of that, in the off chance you're bothered by that.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

For me personally, both labels have trauma attached to them and I feel like they both silence real issues. Even if I’m technically more in line with a pro-ship stance because I think harassing people for anything is wrong, I’ve seen that side of the debate shame and pressure people for being uncomfortable with things in a healthy and unagressive way, I’ve seen them dismiss the harm that poor education on abuse can cause (not as in like, writing a Bad Fanfiction, but when people are actively unaware what they’re writing is abusive- which is not a moral failing but can be very dangerous). I’ve seen them advocate for incest and brush off the idea that any sort of power dynamics could be involved and shame people for just pointing out how the institution of family in this society means such a relationship would almost always lack informed enthusiastic consent due to that alone. I’ve seen them sexually harass people over their works, just in a “positive” light. I’ve seen them deliberately trigger survivors if they’re “antis” or even just don’t use the term. I’ve seen them act sexual around kids and normalise stuff like calling yourself a loli- because I fucking did that in discourse servers when I was a teenager and thought it was normal due to. Other things that aren’t relevant here. I’ve seen them defend communities that have actual evidence of child predation because they refuse to look past the fact they also are pro ship.

Online discourse is inherently unhealthy, even if I agree with the positions (and I do not agree with all the pro ship positions because, one, it’s a meaningless buzzword that means literally every position, and two, I tend to talk about media and it’s impact in a way that doesn’t centre a fifteen year olds sonic fanfiction and I think it’s silly to do so). Being a pro shipper as a teenager was like being in a cult. So was being an anti shipper, earlier on. Because they made me feel like the whole world was against me! I feared everything but the ingroup, and I listened when they said I could only trust them, because they said so. If someone in that community told me to jump, I’d ask how high. Because I was a teenager and they were the only people who wouldn’t harass me for being a trauma survivor who copes through art. I sexualised myself and no one was concerned even when I was fifteen. I flirted with adults and lacked boundaries and it was seen as funny. I don’t want to be associated with a group like that- both pro shippers and anti shippers. Most probably aren’t like that. But the discourse genuinely triggers me. It’s not healthy and it lacks nuance.

Because like, that’s the thing! It does! Because it’s so laser focused on a meaningless thing! I in fact don’t base my views on that. It’s only a very techncial thing I’m aligned more to one side, because I don’t bother thinking about what Molly Eleven Year Old writes on wattpad. That literally does not matter.

not proshipper not anti but a secret third thing (person who has a career in the media and, through covering legislative politics, has watched "associating with problematic fiction or entertainment is an indicator of moral degeneracy" rapidly become a mainstream GOP position that they are encoding in legislation to target the queer community under the guise of protecting children, thus coming to the conclusion that positioning the "can people enjoy things that would be immoral IRL in their fiction" debate as a proship v anti fandom debate is akin to pretending that "should we have the death penalty" is a discussion that only matters in Death Note discourse — the extent and manner to which fiction affects reality is an issue that is immediately relevant to today's US politics, and to summarize my opinions on the matter in fandom terms would be to diminish the ways this debate is affecting america Right The Fuck Now. and i have stopped taking "this person is bad for shipping the wrong anime thing and being horny about it" in any sort of good faith ever since I saw it literally used as part of a GOP smear campaign against a transgender state legislator in an attempt to defend the right from backlash after they used their supermajority in the Montana house to prevent her from speaking on the floor. Anyway I think everyone on this site, especially Americans, could benefit from ceasing to think in proship v anti vocabulary and instead developing coherent political positions on the nature of fiction that do not directly align with current fascist political tactics)