#someone once said in some tags i saw that they enjoy older norm looking like lark and i internalized that stuff

[koszmarnybudyn]

I won't let myself get devoured

Or a Normally Oak-swallows-garcia angst post about grief and anger.

[phy-be]

| treasured | a david/genya fic

my participation to the mini-bang for @grishaversebigbang ♡ This was so fun to write, and a million thank you to my two wonderful materialki! Please check out their amazing work:

@nuclearnik [link] @zemenipearls [link]

Rating: General Audiences Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, proposal, set between Ruin and Rising and King of Scars, Canon Compliant, david is a nerd and he loves his soul mate very very much, cw: nerdy descriptions of rocks, Grishaverse Minibang Summary:

“David, you didn’t have to…”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”

He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.

David pressed the button on the side of his microscope goggles, switching the lens to a more magnifying glass. In the palm of his gloved hand, a crystal gleamed, like sparks of purple fire trapped in stone. The light hit each of its faces in slightly different ways, creating an explosion of colours and geometrical shapes. It was even more beautiful seen up close, when David could not only admire the beauty of the thing, but also the elegant laws of science that made the light refract just so.

Crystals were complicated to work with. Their beauty was due to a highly specific geometry at the molecular level, and any careless alteration could damage their inner core, breaking the stone or making it duller. Even if some were strong enough to cut glass, crystals were precious; they needed to be handled with the utmost care.

David loved working on crystals.

His quiet work was interrupted by anguished sobs coming from the bed.

Quickly, he slipped the stone in a bit of fabric and rushed from his desk. Genya was having another nightmare. Throwing off his glasses and gloves, he hurried to find her on the bed. He took her in a protective embrace as she sobbed, screamed, legs jerking in panic. She clawed at the air around, desperately chasing off a horde of invisible nichevo'ya.

“Stop,” she begged. She wasn’t talking to him.

David held her tighter. Every time he saw her this way, so anguished and pained, helpless to her inner demons, a bitter guilt settled in him, consigned in a single thought: I should have protected her.

Then the guilt faded into hot-white anger — at the Darkling, who had done this to her, who had known how much it would hurt and keep hurting her — until David discarded that emotion, too. Rage and regret were not useful feelings to linger on. Helping Genya get through this, making her pain more bearable — these were the only things that mattered.

Eventually her movements calmed, her hiccupping sobs turning into shallow breaths and silent tears. David caressed her hair, the auburn locks softer than any silk he’d ever felt, and dropped feather-light kisses on her forehead. Genya nestled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears trickling on his skin.

“You’re safe, dear,” he whispered, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this would always be true, from now on. “You’re safe.”

Her grip tightened on his shirt.

“W-were you awake?” she said, her voice still shaken.

David recognized the change of topic as her way to distract herself from the nightmares that lingered in her wakefulness. He played along.

“Yes,” he said, kissing her hair. “I was working late.”

“It’s almost morning,” she murmured. “You work late a lot lately.”

“I’m working on a project.”

“What project?”

David hesitated; Tamar had said he was supposed to keep it a secret. Keeping anything from Genya was hard enough normally, but when she was vulnerable like this, it was downright impossible.

He got up to get the piece of fabric — Genya followed him out of bed, not wanting to let go of his embrace, and he smiled, endeared. Gently, he led her back to the bed, sat next to her, and put his creation in her open palms.

“It’s not finished,” he warned.

Genya carefully unwrapped the silk. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ring, a glistening band of grisha steel wrapping like branches around a rose-shaped stone. When she turned it to get a better look, the candlelight shining through the crystal switched its colour from red, to purple, to blue.

“I altered the refracting index at different levels of the structure to make the crystal polychromatic,” David explained, excited in spite of himself. “I’ve done this with metals before, but never with crystal. It still needs polishing before I can give it to you, though.”

Genya’s eyebrow shot up, looking shocked. “This is for me?”

“Of course.” He admired the ring against Genya’s hand, as beautiful as he’d expected. It would be perfect once she wore it. Silver and red always complemented her pale, rosy skin, the way gold and purple complemented the bronze colour of his own.

“David, you didn’t have to…”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”

He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.

“Y-you’re—” Genya croaked, her skin visibly flushed, “you’re proposing to me?”

“Not right now,” David corrected. “Tamar told me it had to be a special moment, so I’m still working on the details of that.”

He’d been thinking of doing it at sunset, for one. The fiery hues of the sky when the sun slipped under the horizon always reminded him of Genya’s hair, and it would look good on the ring. He’d calculated which part of the palace would be the most adequate spot — a corner of the Summoner’s field provided the perfect exposure for the ring to reflect sunrays and shimmer beautifully — but he needed a reason to bring Genya there that wouldn’t alarm her. Tamar had suggested a picnic, which David had found confusing since they never ate on the training grounds, but Genya did enjoy it when he cooked for her.

His thoughts came to a brutal halt when he realized Genya was crying.

David blinked. Had he done something wrong? He was always so bad at this stuff — he couldn’t count how many times he’d offended someone without meaning to, but Genya usually saw past his awkwardness and understood his meaning.

“Genya…” he said, hesitant, “I’m sorry, did I…”

“You’d want to marry me?” she sniffled, eyes cast down, tears gliding down her cheeks.

David was even more confused. Tamar’s advice hadn’t covered that part. “Yes. Of course.” Had that not been clear?

“Why?” Genya met his gaze. “Why would you… We haven’t even been together that long, you can’t know —”

Like the unknotting of a rope, suddenly, David understood. This was just like the imagined nichevo'ya. She was panicked, sure that the worst was yet to come, that she couldn’t be safe in her own home.

Softly, he cupped her cheeks, bringing her closer. He wished he could take some of the burden that weighed on her, carry it on his shoulders instead of hers, for once; wished he knew the right words to make her feel better, the perfect formula to soothe her fear. But this burden was Genya’s, and David was never good with words. All he could say was the truth.

“I agree that our romantic relationship has not been exceedingly long,” he admitted. A year only accounted for a twentieth of their age so far. Five percent of a life, and some change. “But I have been in love with you for seven years, five months, and twelve days. Our friendship is even older than that,” he pressed his forehead against hers, “and I’ve wanted to marry you from the first time you kissed me.”

His lips brushed hers, an echo of that day at the Spinning Wheel, when the bravest woman in the world had first chosen him.

“I realized at the time that this wasn’t a rational impulse,” he conceded, “so I waited to see how our companionship would grow. I believe I’ve now waited long enough to know. I feel at peace in your company, and I want to make you as happy as you make me.” He pulled back a little, retreating his hands. “Unless you do not want that, in which case I will respect—”

Before he could finish, Genya pulled him into a kiss — the dizzying, head-spinning kind of kiss he’d only ever experienced with her. When she kissed him like that, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, lips flush and panting, David’s usually overworking mind would quiet, snuffed out like the wick of a candle, replaced only by her . Soft hair, delicate skin, lips scarred and still wonderful, her scent a unique aroma he’d come to associate with peace, with home.

“Of course I want to,” she whispered against his lips, smiling coyly.

David kissed that smile, then her cheek, then her temple. “I’m relieved to hear that,” he sighed. “I’ll keep working on that proposal, then.”

Genya laughed, sweet and bright — David didn’t care much for music, but he could have listened to Genya’s laugh for hours. He tucked the ring back in the fabric and put it on the nightstand, where it wouldn’t get lost in the sheets, then took off his shoes and his shirt.

They lied together, Genya’s body half on top of his, snuggling close, as though any space between them might bring in the cold.

Genya brushed her fingers on David’s chest, tracing some patterns.

“So,” she said, her voice now clearer, more sure of herself — Genya in daylight, where the monsters couldn’t touch her. “What was that about seven years, five months, and twelve days?”

“Oh, hm…” David said. He could feel his face heat up, and felt irrationally glad for the brown of his skin, unlikely to show any hint of a blush.

Still, he told her the story of that day. Genya had visited the Fabrikator’s laboratory to make a new cosmetic for the queen. She’d been thirteen years old, and already so creative with her powers. At the time David had only reproduced what his masters had taught him as perfectly as he could, never trying to invent, to create.

But there had been Genya Safin, the first of her kind, inventing everything she did.

It wasn’t the first time they’d met, not even the first time they’d enjoyed each other’s company, but it was the first time David had watched her work. He hadn't even bothered saying hi (which he now realized had been rather rude), too eager to ask her question about her experiment. They’d talked, and when David had gone on a long tangent about his favourite way to colour glass, Genya hadn’t been bored or made fun of his enthusiasm, the way the other students usually did if they bothered to listen to him at all.

She’d listened with care and attention, and then she’d given him her opinion — smart, succinct. Perfect.

“How do you even remember the day this happened?” Genya laughed. “It was so long ago.”

David caressed her shoulder, a soothing, circular motion. “I remember everything, when it comes to you.”

“Cheesy,” she grinned.

“Maybe.” He felt his lips quirk in a smile of his own. “But it’s true.”

She rose up to look at him, her expression turning serious.

“I love you,” she said, the words like a promise. “For even longer than that.”

Gently, David took her wrist, and kissed her palm. “Now, let’s not make it a competition.”

“Wise. You know I’d win.”

“My dear,” he smiled against her hand, “I think I share this victory with you.”

[illyaana]

4 to 10 - Sugawara Koushi

credits to @kvsagi for the Suga art!

Tags: Timeskip! Sick Suga x Doctor! Reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Angst

Synopsis: Suga has been diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis ever since he was 18, a few days after he graduated from high school. He works as an author in the hospital room he currently lives in. When he was 26, you entered the hospital as an official resident doctor and you were assigned to him.

In the beginning, it was just wheezing. After serving a ball to the ace, Suga just needed a few minutes to breathe air back into his system - nothing else.

It slowly became long nights of consistent coughing. It was just a dust allergy - nothing more. Almost all his family members had it - his allergic reactions were just stronger.

It became shorter hours of practice and any forms of exercise. His lungs were just weaker than the rest of the team's. It didn't mean that he was not as skilled as them - he just had to work more efficiently - more success, less time.

Then came the first lung infection.

Then the next.

Then the next.

Then the next.

It was no longer something he could just write off anymore.

Then came the tests; one sweat test and one genetic test.

The next time people saw him, he carried a bag connected to a tube that was in his nose.

He could still live his life normally - he just needed regular checkups. The only thing he needed to do was keep his distance, keep clean and not mess up.

That's all he needed to do, right?

The attacks got worse and worse.

His lungs became so fragile the slightest amount of dust or germ could kill him.

If he wanted to live, he needed to live in the hospital.

Until his clock stopped working, he needed to stay in the white walls of the Hospital of Tokyo forever - and that is what he did.

For the next 8 years of his life, he stayed in the hospital as a 'permanent resident' and lived peacefully.

His life consisted of college online, eating, studying, cleaning his lungs, talking with the other 'permanent residents' or just 'guests', playing with kids in the pediatric ward and sleep.

That was his life - and he didn't hate it.

He soon graduated from college and university and became an author - a well-known one, may I add.

He still talked to his friends from high school - Daichi and Asahi being common visitors with the occasional visit from Kageyama and Hinata.

This was his life until his life ended.

But all that changed when you came into the hospital for the first time.

Sugawara was never one to eye at the doctors or the nurses in the hospital - he believed that it was irrational and very wrong. Yet, you somehow changed his mind almost instantly.

He couldn't muster the bravery to even welcome you on your first day by himself, despite everyone who knew him literally pushing him to do so.

He begged all of the nurses to introduce him to you, but they all wanted him to do it by himself.

"Staring at our newest doctor, huh?" said Sugawara's doctor, Hizashi Yamada from behind him.

"You want me to introduce you to them?" He asked, smiling deviously.

Soon, Suga's doctor brought him to meet you, despite all of Suga's resistance to it.

"Hello, Y/N-sensei. Welcome to the Hospital of Tokyo. It is a pleasure to have someone so well-versed in our hospital as a permanent doctor," said Hizashi-sensei.

He placed his hand out, only for you to shake it. "No need for the praises, Yamada-sensei. The fact you recognized me is a privilege itself."

"This," Yamada-sensei pulled Suga forward, "Is Sugawara Koushi. He has been admitted to our hospital ever since he was eighteen."

Suga blushed furiously.

He wasn't ready to meet you up close so quickly. He wanted to admire you from afar for at least another two more days so that he could learn about your interests, but fate wasn't on his side this time.

Not to mention, you were a doctor, too! One of the younger ones, too... and hotter...

Suga awoke from his daze when he saw your gloved hand reach out to his to give him a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you, Sugawara-san. I believe you are an author? My sister loves your books!"

Suga was internally thanking Daichi for telling him to become an author.

Suga raised his hand to meet yours in a handshake. "The pleasure is all mine."

"As you both know, I am retiring this year," Yamada-sensei said, making both you and Suga face him.

"I've discussed with the board. Y/N-sensei, you'll be in charge of Suga starting tomorrow. I will send all the information about his condition soon," He ended off with a smile.

Wait - you were in charge of him?

Suga was shaking even more now.

It would no longer be Yamada-sensei seeing the uglier side of him but the very person he was developing a crush on.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, huh?" you said, breaking Suga's train of thought.

"I guess it was good I met you today then, Sugawara-san," you ended with a cheerful smile.

"I leave myself in your care then, Y/N-sensei," Suga said while bowing to you.

"Just call me Y/N. I think you're older than me, anyway," you said, laughing a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

You walked towards the nurses that were calling you, leaving an extremely red Sugawara in the middle of the foyer.

The next day stood as a challenge for the silver-haired male.

He was going to act as good as he can so that your job could be as simple as it can be - no cheeky comments, no playful jokes.

Just being a boring, normal patient for the few hours you'd be in his room.

Well, that resolve almost failed immediately when you came in and begged for a conversation with him.

"It's too quiet for me to work properly, Sugawara-san. I know you think that keeping the room quiet helps, but the tension in the room is a bit too strong for me to work normally," you said, aching for some noise to come out of him.

But he didn't say anything - not even a noise.

"If you don't say anything in the next few minutes, I am going to begin talking a bit too much and trust me, you don't want that."

You turned to prepare the machine to remove the excess mucus in his lungs.

"You can call me Suga-san if you want," Suga whispered, scared to speak as loud as he usually does.

You chuckled and turned to face him. "I was going to call you Koushi-kun, whether you liked it or not."

"So, Koushi-kun," you started, "where and when does this author's life begin?"

He chuckled softly. "I was actually born in Miyagi. I was a replacement setter for the volleyball team in my school. Then again, I played a few times even when our main setter was there."

"What school?"

"Karasuno."

You opened your eyes in shock. "Wait - you were part of the Karasuno's volleyball team that went to nationals back then!"

He stared at your wonder-filled eyes and smiled. "Yeah, I was."

"So you know Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio? The Japan players?"

Pride swelled in him when he heard those two names. "Yeah, I do. I actually taught Hinata the basics."

"You've done well, my friend," you said, earning a laugh from the 26-year old.

And that small conversation began the long conversations you both had when you were doing long hours in the hospital.

After handling other patients, you'd often spend time with Koushi in his room with the pretence of 'I'm his doctor - it's my duty to be with him most of the time.'

But that was far from the truth, wasn't it?

You were developing feelings for your own patient.

How could you not fall for him?

Behind the beautiful exterior of his was a man of true beauty itself.

He was a hard worker - spent most of his time working on his new project.

He was kind - helped the nurses with managing the kids in the pediatric ward when they went for their lunch break.

He was the ideal man for anyone.

Time passed and you had been taking care of the former setter for the past two years.

He introduced you to his friends - Asahi, Daichi, Kageyama and Hinata, if you remember correctly - when they came over.

They soon became close friends of yours too - despite your fangirling over the Japan volleyball players. They often spent hours on end with Suga in his room.

All of you enjoyed the small talks you all had together and talked about the things happening in the outside world - be it a small injury or someone's wedding.

"Y/N-san, what about you? Are you in a relationship?" the orange-haired man asked, a small yet beaming smile on his lips.

You instantly blushed and looked at Sugawara. His eyes focused solely on you, taking you in.

"I've been single my whole life. I don't think I'd be getting into a relationship soon, too. The doctor's life doesn't really revolve around romance, despite all the TV shows and movies," you ended, earning snickers from almost everyone in the room.

"How about the rest of you? Is there a conquest of love happening in your lives?" you asked. Now my turn to grin.

Both Kageyama and Hinata stared at one another, faces beet red.

Koushi sighed. "Why can't you both just tell that you're a couple? We all knew ever since high school."

"How did you all know?" Kageyama shouted. You immediately shushed him, earning a small 'sorry' from him.

"You both aren't quiet in the storage room, you know?" Daichi said. Everyone except the couple began laughing hysterically.

"Damn, the money I'd get if I leaked this to the news," you jokingly said, teasing the two players.

When the clock showed 8pm, you pushed the four of the visitors out of Suga's room.

Their time had ended and they needed to head home.

Once they left, you felt a tug on your doctor's coat. You saw Koushi asking you back into the room, not ready for you to leave yet.

"Is everything okay?" You asked him, worried about his health.

"Do you feel like there isn't enough oxygen in your tank? I can always get you a replacement right now-" Koushi placed his finger on your lips.

"Please, just listen to what I have to say," he asked, his eyes begging you to listen to him.

You closed the door behind the two of you. He pulled you to sit beside him on his bed.

"I know I don't have much time left. I already had 10 years after diagnosis when the norm is 4," he said, chuckling.

You wanted to intervene - hell, the sentence was already prepared in your head - but you didn't. From what it looked like, he wanted you to just accept whatever he had to say.

"My drive to write is long gone - I can barely write a sentence I like anymore. I love playing with the kids, but I feel like I would just disturb them rather than entertaining them. I - I feel my life slipping away from my fingers, Y/N..." he said, tears forming around his eyes.

"Yet, when I see you walk along the halls of the hospital, I feel re-energized. I only met you two years ago, but I already am so dependant on you - and not just as a doctor. You are the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning. You are the only thing I think of when I fall asleep. You are..." he gripped on your wrist, "the only thing I want right now."

"Koushi-kun..."

"I love you, Y/N. I didn't want you to leave today without knowing this. I love you so much - as a doctor and as a person."

You hugged the male in front of you, letting his tears fall on your jacket.

"I know you can't reciprocate my feelings, but I just needed you to know."

You gripped on his shirt.

This was the only man you've ever wanted, but you could never have him.

You held your tears back as you walked out of his room.

The next day was just a blur.

The mucus in his lungs built up at an extremely fast pace.

A severe infection formed in his lungs.

You rushed from your apartment to the hospital to conduct surgery as fast as you could.

Luck, however, wasn't on your side.

In the midst of the surgery, the electrocardiogram flatlined.

Sugawara Koushi was pronounced dead at 3:45 am at the Hospital of Tokyo on the 19th of December in the year 2022.

I hope you enjoyed the fanfic! As always, if you have ideas or tropes you'd like me to try, don't hesitate to leave a suggestion here! Thanks for all the reblogs and the likes too! <3 If you want to learn about Cystic Fibrosis, I watched this video and it helped me in understanding the science part of it~

[sigurdjarlson]

-clears throat- i got up on my soap box again. It’s just me bitching about self righteous assholes in fandom (tw: abuse, rape, other triggering issues) 

honestly at this point i’ve been in fandoms so long i legit dont give a fuck what other people ship. if i don’t like it i ignore it. if it makes me uncomfortable i take measures to avoid it. i don’t message people and tell them to go kill themselves over fictional characters. please get professional help if you do

nor is it my responsibility to cater to you if you blatantly choose to look at things that upset you. I’m not your mother. You have to take responsibility for your own internet experience. 

I read a fic that fucked with my head the other day. I didn’t know it would but it did. It put me in a bad headspace. It reminded me of some traumatic shit. Did I go ham on the creator because how dare they write something that upset me? Nah. It’s not their fault. They had all the proper trigger warnings in place. It just happened to hit a sore spot with me because of my own personal experiences which I recognize are very different from everyone else’s. 

sigh

the older i get the less i care because i realize it really does not matter what people like in fiction. Some of the best, kindest people I’ve met on this website ship horrifying ships, have some fucked up kinks or enjoy problematic characters. And some of the worst people I’ve met only ship ~pure ships~ and only love ~pure cinnamon rolls uwu~ or whatever. 

It’s fiction. It has no reflection on what someone is like as a person. How you treat other people however DOES. 

I could go on about how people use “discourse” as an excuse to bully people they disagree with but honestly a lot of people have said it much more eloquently than I. 

Just..tag your shit so people can avoid it (especially content like non-con and such). Be kind to each other. Take responsibility for your own internet experience. Create your own safe space because no one can do that for you. Nor should they have to. 

Fandom becomes a lot more fun when you do those things. And that’’s what it’s supposed to be. FUN.

just because someone wants to get fucked by a tentacle monster in fiction doesn’t mean they’re going to shove an octopus up their asshole.

ALSO if you think people have to tell you about their traumatic experience to justify shipping or enjoying something...you can go right to hell. You don’t care about survivors because if you did you wouldn’’t force them to reveal very personal info about themselves to avoid being harassed and bullied. You’re using survivors to further your bullshit moral crusade that makes you feel better about yourself and I want no part in it. 

Also you don’t speak for all survivors even if you are one yourself. I’m one myself and I don’t speak for all survivors. 

My personal opinion? You don’t need to be a survivor to be allowed to enjoy problematic things. It’s fiction. God damn. 

It reminds me of fatphobes try to claim they care about a person’s health when in reality they’re just using they facade of concern as an excuse to bully and abuse people they don’t like. 

Someone’s trauma is none of your business. what they enjoy is none of your business. 

If someone goes and does something they read about in fan fic they already had serious problems to begin with. 

Also frankly the belief that fiction causes people to do bad things actually takes the responsibility off the person. “Fiction with abusive relationships makes people abusive” no...abusive people make the choice to abuse other people. Don’t you dare take the responsibility off of them. I want none of that.

Abuse, rape, sexual abuse, murder, etc are all CHOICES people make. A fanfic they read once didn’t turn them into a monster. They already were one. This was already a desire they had.

And yes people can enjoy bad things in fiction and not want to do those things in real life. They can be and often are disgusted by those things in real life. They have a healthy distinction between fiction and reality. 

Also frankly I’m insulted by the idea that I’m going to think something is okay cuz I read a fic about it. “People will think it’s okay to be abused” woah woah wait? First you take the responsibility away from the abusers..and then you blame the victim. what you’re really saying is t’s ultimately their fault because they didn’t understand it was abuse? Many abuse victims don’t know it was abuse at first. That does not make it their fault.and it has nothing to do with that fic they read 5 years ago. 

Go on and on about how fiction reinforces social norms..I could argue it doesn’t and its more of a lens in which we can see problems that are already there.

Rape culture is rampant in fiction? It it because it is in society. The fiction did not cause rape culture. “It normalizes it.” it’s already normalized and frankly yes be critical of it but I’d advise you to focus and target the root of the problem instead of the symptoms. 

People exploring these themes and being fully aware these things aren’t acceptable in real life are not the problem. People who believe those things are okay are the problem

also

Real people are more important than fictional ones.

If anti’s put half the energy they put into harassing people on the internet into actually helping the real people they claim to care about they could do a lot of good. But whatever keep on jacking off to your belief you’re morally superior because you don’t ship reyl0 or whatever ship is the target of anti’s now days.

Which goes to show it is not about the issues they claim it’s about. It’s not about abuse apologism or rape apologism. It’s about some very sad, pathetic individual using important issues to stroke their ego and make themselves appear to be the most visibly enlightened or whatever. It’s about the people that pat them on the back and tell them they’re great! They’re good for doing this!! It’s all about ego. 

Sure some people might simply be misguided and have good intentions. Maybe they really believe they’re rooting out the fandom boogyman or whatever. But the real anti’s? They don’t give a flying fuck about survivors. 

So yeah I don’t give a shit what you get off too. I don’t give a shit what you ship. I might not like it but that’s my personal preference and it means nothing beyond that.  

Fan fiction has very little effect on society as a whole anyway. Maybe try focusing on media that actually does? Like television or big blockbuster films? 

Honestly fanfic is actually arguably more aware than any other form of media. With some exceptions..there are proper trigger warnings in place. People freely say “yeah this is terrible and i would never condone it in real life” and that already makes it far less harmful than something like 50 shades of grey. 

However I know I’m tired of having to repeat that disclaimer over and over again. It’s so annoying. It should be a give in. Stop assuming that because someone likes something they would support it in real life.

I want to see Negan and Rick fuck. Am I beating people in the head with a baseball bat? No. Do I think they kind of behavior is acceptable? Fuck no. Do I find the dynamic interesting? Yes. Hot even? Yeah because it’s fictional and it is perfectly okay to explore dark themes in fiction. Would I feel that way if I saw a dynamic like that in real life? Hell no. You best believe I’m going to be disgusted and contact the proper authorities. 

There is a huge difference between fiction and reality. Something anti’s don’t seem to understand. It would just be annoying if it wasn’t so harmful. When you start telling people to kill themselves, trying to ruin their lives with faux accusations, whatever. You become a horrible person. You become that terrible person you say you’re protecting everyone from. 

Just...enjoy what you enjoy. Tag your shit so people can avoid it. Block what you don’t like and have fun for fuck’s sake. Respect and be kind to one another. Take all that moral righteousness and channel it into something that actually helps people instead of actively harming them. 

Someone writing about something that upsets you, unless sent directly to you, is not a personal attack. People don’t have to stop writing about something just because you don’t like it. Different strokes for different folks and all that. Everyone has had different experiences in life and are effected by things differently.