#maybe there’s an in fandom reason why it’s not a thing that I know nothing about as I’ve only recently became interested in this series

[jinstronaut]

anyways being a mean girl on the internet at a grown age in a space where the thing we’re celebrating is so meaningful and lovely is such a bad take

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[claratyler]

what did pj do /genq

he posted a video with pewdiepie a few days ago. Needless to say it gave me whiplash to see that in my youtube recommendations.. but it's more shocking to me to see that everyone was enjoying the video in the comments. or that here on tumblr, people have continued to post about pj completely ignoring the fact that he's out here collabing with Mr Notoriously Racist Youtuber

[autistichalsin]

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

[emily-mooon]

Either I’m a genius or insane for coming up with the crack ship of Young Neil and Stacey Pilgrim.

[maddy-ferguson]

Willing to be controversial but I think Riverdale has a better representation than Stranger Things and I am saying this as a dedicated Riverdale hater (and hate-watcher) since S2's that particular episode where Betty gave that weird *dance scene*. There is no way ST can beat Cheryl Blossom, Toni or CherylToni in any way.

on the lesbian front 100%...y a pas photo comme on dit

and of course very different genres there's less time to fuck around in st because they have an actual story to tell and because they're not a teen drama on the cw and yes robin's coming out scene is great i love it too but they really gave us nothing to work with with vickie it's actually insane. this summer when people on twitter were like um why are you shipping byler (a ship that will never happen) when there's OTHER Great queer representation on stranger things...babe. what stranger things are you talking about because it certainly isn't the one on netflix. vickie was on our screen for less than five minutes

for The Gays in general will and mike's character arcs are so well crafted that yk there's stuff you can dislike and criticize but it's still good writing in a good show vs (mostly?) good writing in a trashy show at the end of the day lol. i feel like if you're looking to watch a show for its gay content only riverdale might be better because there's less pain there😭

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[jawbone-xylophone]

Okay time to be really opinionated: I think almost the entire TMA fandom writes Michael Distortion wrong.

Every time I read a fic about him people are emphasizing how swirly and elongated he/it is.

What's scary about Michael is that it is essentially the living personification of gaslighting. He makes everything else metaphorically swirly.

Sure there's "nobody would believe you", but most people who meet Michael think he looks angelic. He only looks scary out of the corner of your eye, or if he's feeding you just enough truth to get your guard down. He's fun to draw and describe as a psychedelic nightmare, but he is basically the gaslighting demon. It's a polite young man with curly hair and a beautiful smile who you could absolutely take home to meet your mother.

You only know he's a monster because your lizard brain starts screaming.

On a related note, its portfolio also includes dissociation and hallucinations, and nobody takes enough advantage of that– like, kissing Michael. Lots of people describe kissing Michael as a very physical event with notes of static and that tingling sensation of limbs falling asleep. A good start, but my argument: you feel him smooching your cheek and giving your hand a cute little squeeze, despite the fact that he's across the room ordering a coffee. It feels so real. You can feel his callouses catching at your fingers, but no matter how you flex your hand there's nothing there but air. You don't know if you just want it that badly and your eyes are lying, or what. He brings you a coffee and the sensation vanishes.

I know exactly what that episode about "the man who wasn't there" was because I've experienced it, and nobody utilizes that enough. Have you ever closed your eyes and tried to walk through a room, and been Firmly Convinced there was an object in front of you you were about to run into, despite no evidence of such an object when you open your eyes? It's a little like that. Any sort of relationship with Michael Distortion (not recommended and likely a way it has killed many people) would involve you getting comfortable with the fact that your senses are lying to you at an exponentially increasing rate, like a frog slowly being boiled alive.

Is he there? Is he not? Does it matter? You feel loved. You remember being told good morning and eating a homemade breakfast. Did you actually? Maybe it's a memory from a year ago you only think is from this morning. He's adorable even if his laugh gives you tinnitus. Maybe you've always had migraines. He takes care of you through them. Can you remember what he does to take care of you? ....normal people stuff, probably. Ice packs. You think he brought you ice packs once. You're sitting at a bus stop, going... somewhere, for a reason you're sure, and your body is telling you you're sitting on his lap but you keep checking, tapping with your nails, and the seat is hard metal. Does it matter? Maybe it really is him. You'd prefer if it was him. These cute little hallucinations are his way of showing affection. It's comfortable, even when the city shuts off your water because you only thought you paid your bills. He gives you his coat in the rain, and you laugh together and run through the weather, but when you get home you're holding a stranger's purse full of cash instead of a coat and you have no idea why. It's his idea of affection, though. He says he loves you when you ask about it, anyway, and don't you need the money now?

He's a lovely young man and the only normal thing in a world gone mad. The gloves only come off when it's done playing with its food.

[nonstoplover]

all of my heart ~ carlos sainz (cs55)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader

summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father

words: 2K

warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh

a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.

A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.

As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.

Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.

God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.

They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.

Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.

Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.

With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.

When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.

She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.

Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."

"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.

"I can feel it in my bones."

He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.

Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.

What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?

He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.

This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.

Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.

How did he deserve her?

As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.

I hope the baby looks like her.

Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.

Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.

Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.

Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.

In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.

"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.

Son?

His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.

"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.

"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.

The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.

Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.

She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.

Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.

Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.

The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.

"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.

She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."

Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.

She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.

"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.

"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.

They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.

"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.

With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.

She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.

A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.

a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

[sp-ud]

Every time I see a "Hazel doesn't really need fairy godparents, she has good parents and friends, so what if she's sad they moved and her brother is off at college? Thats nothing compared to what Timmy or Dev have going on." I want to cry.

Have you considered that maybe that's the point? I know here on tumblr it's mostly people who were fans of the original show and are now in their early adult lives and teens who probably heard of the original but haven't watched it but checked out ANW for one reason or another. But don't forget, this is still a show for younger kids.

Hazel reflects a lot of the realistic internal struggles younger kids deal with, especially when suddenly thrown into a completely new phase of their lives like moving to a new city, going to a new school, or an older sibling going to college.

And that's a good thing, it's good to show kids that even if their lives aren't Horrid they still can have issues. They're still allowed to struggle 'even though' they have good parents, 'even though' they aren't bullied, 'even though' most of their issues are internal.

And that is why it's good Hazel is the protagonist and not Dev. While yes from a fandom perspective I get why people are drawn to the character with the most blatant angst potential, that like. Would be a terrible show. Even if it was meant for a YA audience and not kids.

But back to Hazel, she's so brilliantly written with her struggles because it's like yeah. I can see any 10 year old being in her situation. Minus the whole fairy godparents. Lots of kids struggle with making new friends, or knowing how to deal with being somewhere completely new, and so many other things. Its nice to see, and once again I think this choice by the writers was very intentional.

Also maybe some of yall need to think about possible unconscious biases you have that could be causing you to focus on the sad white boy and not the black girl who has plenty of her own complexities and issues. And why when you do focus on Hazel why you only focus on how she can support Dev.

Hazel is an interesting and well written character and I'm sick of there being like no talk or anything in the fandom about her without it being attached to Dev. It's her show goddamn it. The writers made her the protagonist for a reason and wrote her the way they did for a reason so please don't just ignore her. Go rewatch the show and actually pay attention to her.

And a final semi-related note, some of yall need to stop forgetting Hazel's 10. The amount of criticism towards her that can instantly be countered with "She's 10" is insane. I know for some of us it's been a while since we were 10, but I think we can all agree we were all far from being perfectly logical and emotionally intelligent at age 10.

[snowyh2o]

Just a random thought about how Alastor and Vox must’ve been really good friends before everything fell apart. Because Alastor knows how to make a video ad, he knows how to set things up for a movie/video shoot, things that had nothing to do with his medium, that he probably learned how to do because of Vox, because he was willing to try and learn from or for Vox. And Vox literally welcomes Alastor back home when he finds out he’s returned, has literally counted the years Alastor’s been missing when no one else seemed to know, and fashioned his clothing style to match Alastor’s (assuming it’s not just a case of everyone gets a pinstripe suit!), uses the same techniques Alastor taught Charlie about how smiling can be a tool to keep you ahead of the game.

And how it all fell apart and it wasn’t just Vox that was hurt in the process. Because you can’t tell me the man who hates TVs and modern tech due to its association with Vox doesn’t feel anything for what friendship they had and lost. Who snarls at the mere sight of him on a screen (admittedly while also dissing Alastor), who went straight back to his radio tower to diss Vox right back (and absolutely crush him lol), before threatening him against taking action, privately, twice. Alastor’s just better at hiding how much it’s affected him, and doesn’t let the bitterness of what used to be consume his every waking thought.

And maybe that’s the difference between how they view their old relationship and how the fandom seems to view it. Alastor’s upset about it, sure. He’s bitter now about Vox and everything Vox represents because he’s a past friendship that failed, but he’s also moved on with his life. Vox hasn’t. Vox still obsesses over Alastor, in the way he dresses, the way he talks, how he presents himself. It’s all reminiscent of Alastor. And when he finds out Alastor’s returned, the first thing he does is draw attention to how Alastor’s back! Talk in a roundabout way about how much he’s missed him! Has wondered where he’s been? Sends a spy into the hotel to, well, spy on Alastor! And when that doesn’t work, Vox continues to stalk Alastor through his drones instead. (And then gets off on seeing Alastor get beat up.)

Vox very much has not moved on from whatever friendship they’d had before. He hasn’t moved on from Alastor. (Or from his heavily implied obsessive crush).

We don’t know what happened between them, aside that it’s complicated and sad, that they were friends, and now they’re very much not, and that maybe part of the reason why is because Alastor rejected Vox’s request to join his team (upend his entire life to partner with Vox, assuming Alastor always worked solo and what the Vees currently have is what Vox had wanted with Alastor with his request). We can assume maybe part of why they fell apart was because Vox wanted something more from his relationship with Alastor, something Alastor could not and did not want to give him. Or maybe they just grew apart, grew distant. Vox constantly upgrading and changing and keeping up with the newest trends, chasing whatever new Thing that’ll keep him relevant, while Alastor remained set in his ways because he’s not looking for the approval of the masses.

Anyways, all this to say: when I, and I assume most other OneWayBroadcast fans talk about one-sided radiostatic, it is specifically about how Vox has a one-sided romantic/sexual attraction/crush on Alastor, that Alastor does not return, that has now turned into a one-sided obsession over Alastor. Not that their entire friendship was completely one-sided. I think saying that Vox was the only one who was ever invested in their relationship is a rather bad faith interpretation of Alastor’s character, but also does not do their relationship justice at all. It minimizes Vox’s responsibility in the fallout of their friendship, and puts the blame only on Alastor. It takes away all the juicy complexities of Vox’s character, how he’s bad person who’s done and is doing bad things, and paints him as an innocent victim to “Alastor’s manipulation”.

That’s not to say Alastor was completely innocent in the fallout either. But I hear a lot more about how the fandom woobifies Vox in their relationship than I do Alastor.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt IV good omens but all i know is i watched three episodes on a stream with you all

Three hours being in a server with good omens fans in the wild *insert random emojis to sound like optimum clickbait youtuber except this ain't clickbait*

Okay I woke up. Before everything just WASHES out of my brain, I'm gonna describe whatever happened last night best as I can, because that's what I do.

Some of you were unable to attend the stream, and were sad. But don't worry I got you guys here's the rundown:

people joined the server. people were confused. i was afraid. i was assured that i should be, which was meant to comfort me.

people introduced themselves. someone said they had worked in a brothel as a bartender, which was cool, they said they had many stories. they did not elaborate for fear of scaring the newcomers. The newcomers, aka, me, were already scared, and it was not of the brothel stories.

I brought an emotional support orange with me. It looked uncomfortable. I thought it would be rotten. It was not, but we would not know that until later.

@thescholarlystrumpet entered fabulously, and started the stream.

i didn't realise the show had started for a good two minutes because there was a random voice over that was telling us about Earth's star sign (Libra) and somehow that didn't compute in my brain as being part of the episode. I thought we were checking audio.

It turned out, the episode had begun, and everyone was acting like this is a completely normal way for a show to start.

We time-jumped from the fall of man to modern day society so fast that I got whiplash.

There were a lot of orgasmic noises. I asked why. I was told in no uncertain terms that those were screams of labour. I'm sorry to everyone who has given birth ever.

There were three babies. I tried to keep track, it was hard. I thought the Antichrist won prizes for tropical fish. I was wrong.

I fell in love with Crowley and his hips and was very gay on the chat. This was heartily applauded.

I didn't realise an hour had passed when the episode ended, which it seemed was to be a common theme. I said nothing happened which everyone found funny for some reason.

I was very concerned about Armageddon. Everyone assured me that it would take place over the course of the season. I asked why we'd speedrun through millennia in five minutes but eight days took several episodes. I was a naive fool. Time is a social construct and this show cares not for social constructs.

They fucked up the mission. This was also to be a common theme.

I begged for a break and had to shake my head to try and get the brain rot out. I did not succeed.

The second episode commenced. The intro concerned me, because the cartoon Aziraphale looked pregnant or like a chicken. I asked if Crowley had impregnated him. He had not.

The pornography scene had to be replayed because I was so lost and had not relished it properly.

There was a lot of crying on the chat. Every few minutes someone would say a normal sentence in English and everyone would respond with crying emojis. Needless to say, I was concerned. This was also to be a common theme.

I asked why we were talking about random children. I was told it was The Them and they were the Antichrist's friends. I liked the hellhound.

I wanted to adopt the Antichrist, and grew more thirsty for Crowley every time he was a casual accessory to murder. I'm relying on this fandom not to use this as evidence with the cops. The chat was not reassuring, they said maybe.

I thirsted for Crowley more. This was also to be a common theme.

Aziraphale was very cute, I realised. That was nice. It was not nice when he had gay panic and said mean things to Crowley and they broke up. This was also to be a common theme.

I got so gay for Crowley that I ate the emotional support orange. It was gaseous. The chat was concerned, and everyone got excited every time oranges were mentioned after.

The third episode was a fucking roller coaster. Crowley and Aziraphale were your average high school couple but biblical for 6000 years.

Both were casual accessories to murder, and sometimes the cause of the murders, before going out for a date. Crowley got horny and he stopped listening every time Aziraphale ate. This was also to be a common theme.

The chat was keeping count of the husband breakups. This was not nice.

The Bentley was silver in many scenes, and people were forced to concede that they saw it. I was smug.

Crowley was sexy. She served gender, or as some people in the chat said, she served cunt. Her hairstyles got better and better. No one liked the 60s one. I did. I like everything she does. I love him.

Things happened. The fandom infected me. Someone mentioned how the book said Crowley felt lonely. I was near tears.

Crowley walked down the aisle for Aziraphale. We all were happy.

The book case, the thermos, the bandstand. I was broken.

Everyone said very emotional goodbyes.

I made a post on tumblr that was absolutely incomprehensible but accurately conveyed my love for Crowley. I fell asleep.

Same time next week, I believe.

I hope this was an adequate summary of the livestream for everyone, I am broken irreparably and if anyone mentions the bandstand I will have to start drinking and not stop till I get a happy ending. I cannot afford alcohol. I will ferment grapes myself if I have to.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Now that L has painted a big arrow on the timeline at June 2021, I’m curious about what you think S2 filming was like between the two of them?

L was still with J, they had found out they were going to be leading season 3, they had less screen time and more downtime than S3, and they posted THAT selfie. Thoughts?

Let me just give y'all my thoughts:

I think there was always feelings between the two of them and S2 filming really started to cultivate the blurred lines for them.

They knew early on in S2 production they would be leading S3 and they have both been very vocal about the prep they started to lead S3.

I think they both recognized pretty quickly they had feelings for each other but never discussed it and the used S3 filming and their characters to act on their feelings.

I personally don't think they ever crossed a line physically outside of their characters, pre or post break up with J.

I think a conversation was had between the two of them, sometime between the wrap party and her going to his play. I'm leaning closer to the wrap party.

I do think N was the one to shut things down for multiple reasons like L just getting out of a 4 yr relationship, them being in the BTON bubble and blurring lines, and then her truly thinking that maybe they had gotten whatever it was out of their system during filming.

I also don't think L was honest when they had their conversation. I know a lot of people within the fandom think his confession sort of "scared" N off with him dropping the love bomb. I feel the opposite. I think he downplayed things out of rejection.

Which is why we see him do a 180 last summer, he is running.

I think after she went to his play there was limited contact between them, partly because she had been seeing someone else, until Dec '23 when they met back up for reshoots.

During reshoots they fell right back into the blurred lines because nothing was actually resolved from their previous talk. They may have had another conversation with an understanding regarding the upcoming tour.

Which I believe is part of the reason we get the tension after the NYE kiss and during the early Jan interviews.

I don't believe N was seeing anyone Dec '23/Jan '24 but I do think it may have been rekindled in Feb/Mar done by early April.

We can tell from all of the press junkets and livestream events Feb-Apr that there is something there between L and N, I don't think it was lost on them either.

Australia def solidified things for them exhibiting their feelings outside of their characters and being forced to really examine it. Another conversation was had.

Then we have the InStyle stunt followed by a bunch of articles claiming L to be single.

A week later they are in Italy.

There is tension. Why? I think it is truly due to their lack of clear and honest communication up to that point. Another conversation is had, with their bodies, and all is well for the rest of the Italy stop.

I don't believe L had any intention of taking A to the NY premiere but I also don't think she flew there and surprised him. I don't think he was happy she was there but I also don't believe he yelled at her or got into an argument with her at the after party.

Reasons why I don't believe she was ever invited to NY:

She had bought her own ticket to get into the premiere/after party.

Her seat at the Knicks game seemed to be a last minute get.

And the Chaos dinner.

I'm def in the minority with this one but I don't think L would have accepted the invite if A was planned to go to NY. I could be wrong but the dinner already seemed completely outside of L's scene of ppl to network with. He was going for N and N alone, you can't change my mind.

Then we get Brazil. This is tricky because I don't believe L had ended things with A like some ppl do but I do believe they were just casual.

I am def in the minority here as well, I don't believe L took A to SF during the break between Brazil and Toronto. I think the pic A shared was an old one. Could be wrong tho. I think he was elsewhere and not with her and that was the reasoning behind the liking spree and getting some family/friends to follow her. All so she didn't act out, go figure it would be her mom who caused the drama...

Cut to Toronto. There is perceived tension between L and N but I think the fandom got this one wrong. They both seemed to have been ill in Toronto so I think that and jet lag started to catch up with them. All was fine in the end.

Not much to say about Dublin or Galway. I think lines were drawn by someone as things got a little too real.

And now here we are.

Let's discuss...

[l-in-the-light]

Law didn't know about the kids in Punk Hazard

This will be an unpopular opinion, because fandom loves to think Law is so shocked here because of Strawhats crazy antics. But I believe that the actual reason why Law looks so horrified is because of the kids. He didn't know Caesar was experimenting on kids and right under Law's nose. He spent months there and yet he didn't know.

How is that possible? Because Law had to agree to two conditions so Caesar would allow him to stay on that island: 1. give up his heart in exchange for Monett's 2. not be nosey about Caesar's research. And if Law would break that deal, his heart would get crushed at any moment. So why would he break the deal before he would figure out how to get his heart back? He stayed there for months and I doubt he needed to stay there for that long, he was just stuck there because of that stupid condition. And yet soon after he found out (thanks to Strawhats), he reacts like this and betrays Caesar:

I still have no idea who Caesar reminded Law of. At first I thought "Doffy, right?" but Doflamingo despite being manipulative never had to actually drug people not to leave his side, that's exactly why he is so scary in the first place. My current bet is Vegapunk, for two reasons:

1. Everything Caesar does or did is implied to be a copy of Vegapunk's inventions, just worse quality: artificial zoan fruit dragon = smile fruits, that's why Caesar knows how to "respawn" devil fruits as well, don't think it's his own achievement. Also we're being fed to a lie for the whole duration of Punk Hazard: Caesar isn't the only person capable of producing SAD, Law reveals it on Sunny on their way to Dressrosa: "he only found an use for Vegapunk's lineage factors" - which means any other scientist could have done the same as long as they knew the method. At first Vegapunk was also part of the illegal science group of Punk Hazard, which means both him and Caesar did experiments on humans (prisoners, Kaido, Alber, but not kids, but it's still experimenting on humans). All things considered it doesn't have to be a stretch that Law might mean Vegapunk here, after all he did read a lot about world government's experiments that were previously done on Punk Hazard (he did share a bit about gigantification for example and that was also an experiment Vegapunk was involved in!).

2. It could have been Judge, but I don't think Law ever met him. His surprise at seeing Stealth Black for real was enough of a proof to me, he never met any Germa before.

Remember Flevance and all the kids dying? Or Law's novel when one of the first feats Law does after forming Heart Pirates together with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin is to rescue people from pirates? I even think it mentions "rescue kids" specifically.

Staying on Punk Hazard and having a deal with Caesar who experimented on kids and Law having no idea about it must have been a big blow to him. He probably thought he's partially responsible for that. And despite the fact we don't see much of his emotions in that arc, we do see two little hints of it:

Overreacting much? He didn't really need to cut them up, seems like he released his anger there.

This one's easy to miss. He eats while looking at the kids, gulps his soup in one go and throws away the bowl. For someone so calm and composed that seems like such an uneccessary display and has like nothing to do with his talk with Smoker. But if we compare it to a certain someone having a flashback to his trauma, it all suddenly makes sense:

I see the parallel here, even though it's subtle.

In summary: Law wasn't a cold bitch, he was actually genuinely traumatized after Punk Hazard. That line between "good" and "evil" the marines painted feels even more symbolic, all things considered. Law believes himself to be a villain there and hates it.

Bonus: Yes, I remember that Law told Strawhats to forget about the kids when they told him they want to save them. He probably thought they can't pull it off or maybe he still felt bound by his deal with Caesar. Instead of being a counterargument I feel like it just makes the whole thing worse: he thought there's no way to save them which in turn for sure made him feel even worse about himself. He ended up being what he hated the most: the government's decision of not even trying to help Flevance and dooming it, just like Law himself doomed the kids.

Strawhats literally saved his heart a little bit there, in Punk Hazard. Didn't help him feel better about himself, but made him believe slightly more in miracles.

[bunnwich]

It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun. 

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed: 

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 1 - "It's not too late, let's go."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

Danny frowned, his head resting on his arms as he sat in a café, staring at nothing in particular. Tucker was sitting next to him, typing away on his PDA and Sam was across from him glaring at his current state of dramatic pouting, frowning and sulking while ignoring his favorite coffee order she had especially ordered for him somehow even though the store did not even have it on their menu.

"Danny, how much longer are you going to sulk?"

"I don't know. How much longer until my next chance of ever meeting someone from outer space?"

"Danny."

"We missed the Hero Gala, Sam! That was our one and only chance!"

He looked away from her like a stubborn toddler. He knew he was being especially dramatic but his friends and him had planned this whole trip solely for meeting members of the Justice League in person. For one, to maybe meet the people that have been ignoring their cities' call for help for years now and request it personally if per call won't work and two, fulfill some of their own personal selfish desires to meet the hero's each one of them admired.

Though their trip clearly had been eventful considering how a lot of his ghost rogues tried to stop him from even leaving Amity Park, they also learned about the whole media black out surrounding Amity. Turns out, the reason the Justice League was ignoring them was entirely because they didn't even know they existed in the first place. It was a miracle that they even learned about a Hero Gala in Metropolis if it weren't for an invitation somehow making it to the Mansons Estate.

Fun fact. Even if the invitation made it to them. Once they did make it to the Gala location they learned that it had happened years ago. Well wasn't that just great, and here Danny had hoped to get some help and maybe meet Superman or better Martian Manhunter.

Slamming his head onto the table and gaining the attention of some other cafe visitors briefly. Danny only turned ever so slightly so that his cheek was squished against the cold table surface. Still refusing to look at Sam but instead watched Tucker who was by now frowning at his PDA.

"Guys, I think there is more to it than us being simple late a couple of years to a Gala." Blinking made a noise to ask him to elaborate while Sam verbally asked why.

"Things didn't add up when we first left Amity, aside from all your ghost rouges were even trying to make us stop leaving until the very last second. Look at this, this is a photocopy of our last news paper from home and this-" Tucker slit a paper across the table and pointed at a specific spot at the top of the paper so both Danny and Sam could see it clearly. "-is a news paper printed today from Metropolis."

"I don't get it." Danny honestly stated staring at the spot Tucker had pointed it. Sam proceeded to hit the back of his head lightly, apparently having seen what Tucker was pointing out to them.

"The dates are way too far apart." She stated and Danny blinked, looking back at the printed date and the date displayed in the image of Tuckers PDA. "Are you sure you didn't save up an older newspaper?"

Tucker gave him an unimpressed stare. "Look at the headline. That's the incident that happened right before we went on this trip."

"Okay but what does that mean?"

"From what it looks like. Amity Park lives in a time bubble. Our technology as well as date seems far behind from everything we saw ever since we left. Even my beloved PDA appears to be old technology here."

The tree sat in silence for a moment, mulling over what they had found out so far after leaving Amity for the first time. But now that they thought about that, Amity was a closed community. There were hardly any people coming in and out of their town. In addition the only one who had ever entered their city from the outside was Vlad and even he didn't talk much about any other cities or people he could possibly know outside of Amity.

"That's a pretty interesting topic you guys are talking about."

Startled, the three looked up to see a new face that had appeared out of nowhere and was spitting next to Sam. The boy with auburn hair and yellow eyes who looked only a bit older than them and was smiling brightly at them with a back of chips in his hands.

"So you guys lived in a time bubble? That sounds interesting, can you tell me more?"

A second later two black haired teens appeared next to the boy, one sheepish and in a punk style and the other frustrated and appearing to wear more formal clothing. The frustrated one eyed them for a moment and Danny caught his eyes, noticing the calculating look and couldn't help narrowing his own eyes on him.

"Sorry about my friend, he sometimes acts before he thinks."

"I have a friend like that too, don't worry." Tucker answered and Danny shot him a quick glare before turning his attention back to the three newcomers.

"We couldn't help but overhear what you guys were talking about. You missed your chance to go to a hero gala right?" The sheepish one said after exchanging a look with the other black haired teen and Danny couldn't help but feel like there was some silent communication going on. The same he had at times with Tucker.

"So what?" Sam huffed, not willing to talk about their woes and sharing information with strangers.

"We happened to be on our way to one that's not open to the public but we could help you get in. Granted, I would like to hear a little more about your situation and how you missed the one you originally wanted to go to." In other words, give us information and we will get you to somewhere where you can meet hero's. Danny narrowed his eyes further, there had to be more to this catch.

His distrust must have been visible as the formal clothing black haired teen let out a sigh. "Look we have experience with time shenanigans, so we might be able to get you into contact with people that can help, from Young Justice or maybe even the Justice League."

"No one just offers help like that, without getting something out of it." Sam huffed arms crossed and glaring at them. Tucker also eyed them with suspicion and Danny had yet to let up on his distrustful glare.

"Well we do. So common, the private gala is still going. We only escaped from it for a little bit to get this guy some coffee. It's not too late, let's go! We can figure out the whole time bubble thing on the way there!" The brightly smiling auburn haired answered instead bouncing in his seat next to Sam. Eager to have Danny and his friends come along.

Only way later did Danny learn that the three teens that snuck them into a privat Hero Gala were actual members of Young Justice but that was only after they figured out the whole Amity lives in a Time Bubble situation.